No right to physician aid in dying, Mass. high court holds, rejecting analogy to same-sex marriage right

In 2017, Rep. Eleanor Holmes Norton (D-D.C.) and D.C. residents
protest to protect "death with dignity" law from congressional meddling.
Ted Eytan, MD, via Flickr CC BY-SA 2.0

There is no right to physician aid in dying in the Massachusetts constitution, the commonwealth high court held in December, leaving room for legislators to fill the gap.

A cancer patient and a doctor brought the case. The plaintiff patient, a retired physician with metastatic prostate cancer, wanted counseling on physician aid in dying; the plaintiff doctor wanted to give counsel to his patients struggling with potentially terminal illness. Both plaintiffs argued that they could not get what they want for fear that doctors can be prosecuted for the state common law crime of manslaughter, that is, reckless killing, or worse.

The court opinion refers consistently to "physician-assisted suicide" (PAS), but I'm here using the term "physician aid in dying" (PAD), a difference I'll explain. The medical action at issue here is the ability to "prescri[be] ... barbiturates [with] instructions on the manner in which to administer the medication in a way that will cause death." But the plaintiffs confined their demand to patients facing fatality within six months. 

In a footnote, the court said it used "PAS" because the American Medical Association (AMA) prefers the term. The AMA regards "PAD," or the more modish "medical aid in dying" (MAID), preferred by the plaintiffs, as unfavorably "ambiguous."

Massachusetts remains with majority of states in not recognizing PAD right.
Terrorist96 (upd. Apr. 2021) via Wikimedia Commons CC BY-SA 4.0

Facially, both terms are potentially ambiguous; the quibble over semantic precision faintly masks the policy disagreement. "PAS" implicates suicide in the conventional sense, comprising the intentional ending of one's life for any reason, including the expression of mental illness. That's a bigger ask in terms of constitutional entitlement. The 10 states (plus D.C.) that allow PAD, such as Oregon, require a terminal diagnosis and purport to exclude conventional suicide. "PAD" and "MAID," accordingly, mean to narrow the fact pattern to a patient who is hastening a process of natural death that already is under way, or at best ending an inescapable and intolerable suffering.

I learned about this distinction, and more in this area, only recently, as a student in my Comparative Law class is working on a research paper comparing MAID laws in Oregon and the Netherlands. In her early stage of topic selection, I referred her to, and recommend to everyone, my top This American Life segment of 2022, "Exit Strategy." The heartbreaking segment comprises excerpts of Connecticut writer Amy Bloom reading from her book, In Love: A Memoir of Love and Loss, which documented the figurative and literal journey of her and her husband to end his life in Switzerland after his diagnosis with Alzheimer's. I might one day read the whole book, but I'll need to work up the emotional strength.

The court's thorough opinion by Justice Frank M. Gaziano largely tracked the reasoning of the U.S. Supreme Court in declining to recognize PAD as a fundamental right, because it's supported neither by historical tradition nor widespread acceptance. Insofar as PAD is a reality on the ground for doctors and terminally ill patients, it still carries a stigma, the Massachusetts opinion observed. The medical community itself is divided over PAD, evidenced by amici in the case. In the absence of a fundamental right, state criminal law easily survives rational-basis review for substantive due process.

The Supreme Judicial Court recognized its own power and responsibility, in contrast with the more conservative U.S. Supreme Court, to tend and grow the scope of fundamental rights protected in Massachusetts, adapting the state Declaration of Rights to new social challenges. The Massachusetts court exercised that very power when it approved same-sex marriage in the commonwealth in Goodridge v. Department of Public Health (2003), 12 years before the U.S. Supreme Court did likewise for the nation in Obergefell v. Hodges (2015).

Voters reject the PAD initiative in Massachusetts in 2012.
Emw & Sswonk via Wikimedia Commons CC BY-SA 3.0

But the milieu in Massachusetts is hardly conducive to Goodridge delivering this plaintiff ball across the goal line, the court concluded. To the contrary, the court observed, Massachusetts voters rejected a PAD ("Death with Dignity") ballot initiative in 2012 (51% to 49% in "ferocious political battle"), "over a dozen bills" to legalize PAD have failed in the legislature, and statutes regulating healthcare affirmatively disallow PAD counseling.

The court opinion includes an intriguing discussion of standing. The case was something of a put-on, because local prosecutors did not threaten the plaintiff physician with prosecution. Again, the court acknowledged that doctors engage in PAD now, if quietly, criminal law notwithstanding. In reality, there is not a bright line between PAD and appropriate palliative care, or between "terminal sedation" and "palliative sedation." Prosecutors helped plaintiffs to sustain the case by saying that they would not decline to prosecute.

In the end, the court decided the case only in the matter of the physician. The court rejected the plaintiff patient's claim because he had not been given a six-month prognosis, and his cancer remained susceptible to treatment by multiple options. In the patient's defense, I'm not sure someone with a six-month prognosis would have time to prosecute the case to the high court, nor should be expected to. Justice Dalila Argaez Wendlandt aptly dissented on the point. The patient here submitted that he did not necessarily want PAD, but wanted to have the option to be counseled for it if the need arises. Anyway, the court allowed standing for the doctor on a theory of jus tertii ("third-party right"), when one person is allowed to assert the rights of another upon a close nexus of interests. This notion is implicated on the issue of standing in the mifepristone case now before the U.S. Supreme Court.

In separate opinions, Justices Wendlandt and Elspeth B. Cypher left the door ajar to a rights argument on the right facts. Justice Cypher wrote that some "constitutional zone of liberty and bodily autonomy" should preclude prosecution for "late-stage palliative care." Justice Wendlandt reasoned similarly that as a patient approaches death, the state interest in preserving life by way of criminal law wanes, eventually even as to fail rational-basis review of a "nonfundamental right."

Nothing about the court's opinion precludes the state legislature from reengaging with PAD, which has been legalized in the northeast in New Jersey, Maine, and Massachusetts neighbor Vermont.

The case is Kligler v. Attorney General, No. SJC-13194 (Mass. Dec. 19, 2022), available from the Alliance Defending Freedom, a conservative religious freedom advocacy group that participated as amicus on the side of the Attorney General.

'Civility' is code for conformity

The Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court two weeks ago struck down a town policy purporting to require civility in public meetings. The town policy resembles attempts to restrict academic freedom.

Board meeting, via Southborough Access Media video
(Kolenda at center).

'Civility' in Politics

In December 2018, Southborough, Massachusetts, resident Louise Barron took advantage of a public comment period at a town board meeting to call out board members on fiscal policy and, ironically, compliance with state open meetings law. Though not obliged to, board members responded. The discussion became heated, resulting in Barron calling one selectman, Daniel Kolenda, "a Hitler," and Kolenda abruptly ending the comment period and expelling Barron. (The meeting is on YouTube (cued). Read more at Wicked Local.)

Board policy provides for an open public comment period for extra-agenda items with this admonition:

All remarks and dialogue in public meetings must be respectful and courteous, free of rude, personal or slanderous remarks. Inappropriate language and/or shouting will not be tolerated. Furthermore, no person may offer comment without permission of the [c]hair, and all persons shall, at the request of the [c]hair, be silent. No person shall disrupt the proceedings of a meeting.

Barron challenged the policy and her expulsion under the freedom of assembly and freedom of speech provisions of the 1780 Massachusetts Declaration of Rights, articles 19 and 16, respectively. Barron forewent challenge under the younger (1791) First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution to keep the case in state court. 

And just as well. The Massachusetts Declaration is a revered document in its own right in American history and global human rights, and the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court has not hesitated to construe its provisions as more protective of civil rights than the federal standard. Indeed, for many years, well before I came to work in Massachusetts, I taught a public seminar on the First Amendment for the Freedom of Information Foundation of Texas and used the Massachusetts Declaration to demonstrate the close connection of FOI and assembly.

Article 19 provides, "The people have a right, in an orderly and peaceable manner, to assemble to consult upon the common good; give instructions to their representatives, and to request of the legislative body, by the way of addresses, petitions, or remonstrances, redress of the wrongs done them, and of the grievances they suffer."

In teaching freedom of information law, I often shorthand the constitutional context of access law as the "flip side of the coin" of the First Amendment. The idea is that the freedom of speech is meaningless, especially in the core protection of political expression, if one does not know the facts to speak about.

The coin characterization is useful, but it's not entirely accurate. The First Amendment recognition of assembly as ancillary to expression aptly indicates an interrelationship that is more an intertwining than a duality.

Board meeting, via Southborough Access Media video
(Barron at right).

In the opinion of the court, Justice Scott L. Kafker recounted Article 19's "illustrious" history.

The provision also has a distinct, identifiable history and a close connection to public participation in town government that is uniquely informative in this case. ... [Article] 19 reflects the lessons and the spirit of the American Revolution. The assembly provision arose out of fierce opposition to governmental authority, and it was designed to protect such opposition, even if it was rude, personal, and disrespectful to public figures, as the colonists eventually were to the king and his representatives in Massachusetts.

Our interpretation of the text, history, and purpose of art. 19 is further informed by the words and actions of Samuel and John Adams, who not only theorized and commented upon the right, but were historic actors well versed in its application during the revolutionary period, particularly in the towns. Both Adams cousins emphasized in their correspondence and their actions the importance of the right to assemble.... Samuel Adams wielded it to great effect in his attempt to "procure a Redress of Grievances" when the British governor of the colony attempted to exercise control over assemblies after the Boston Massacre.... 

More philosophically, John Adams explained that the right of assembly was a most important principle and institution of self-government, as it allowed "[every] Man, high and low ... [to speak his senti]ments of public Affairs.".... Town inhabitants, he wrote, "are invested with ... the right to assemble, whenever they are summoned by their selectmen, in their town halls, there to deliberate upon the public affairs of the town." .... "The consequences" of the right of assembly, in Adams's words, were that "the inhabitants ... acquired ... the habit of discussing, of deliberating, and of judging of public affairs," and thus, "it was in these assemblies of towns ... that the sentiments of the people were formed ... and their resolutions were taken from the beginning to the end of the disputes ... with Great Britain." .... Alexis de Tocqueville made a similar point in Democracy in America: "Town-meetings are to liberty what primary schools are to science; they bring it within the people's reach, they teach men how to use and how to enjoy it." ....

Cousins Samuel Adams and John Adams
(via JohnAdamsInfo.com)

The court had little difficulty concluding that the town policy thus ran afoul of article 19. 

There was nothing respectful or courteous about the public assemblies of the revolutionary period. There was also much that was rude and personal, especially when it was directed at the representatives of the king and the king himself.

The court furthermore held the town policy overbroad and vague in violation of the article 16 freedom of speech. The case did not require the court to determine whether the First Amendment public forum doctrine applies to article 16 problems, the opinion explained. Massachusetts precedents already establish that content-based restrictions of political speech are subject to strict scrutiny. Worse, the court reasoned, the policy is viewpoint based, as it allows "polite[] praise[]" of public officials while condemning "rude[] or disrespectful[] critici[sm]."

Well reasoned as it is, the decision in Barron v. Kolenda, No. SJC-13284 (Mar. 7, 2023), does not break new ground in freedom of speech, even in Massachusetts law. And the case has been well reported with commentary, for example by J.D. Tuccille for Reason ("Let Massholes Be Massholes, Says Bay State's High Court"), and by Pioneer Legal, The New York Times, and the Brennan Center. What enticed me to write about the case is the likeness of the civility code to efforts to extinguish academic freedom.

'Civility' in the Workplace

The go-to code word on American college campuses to curb faculty freedom has been "collegiality." Introducing a 2016 report, the AAUP explained:

In recent years, Committee A has become aware of an increasing tendency on the part not only of administrations and governing boards but also of faculty members serving in such roles as department chairs or as members of promotion and tenure committees to add a fourth criterion in faculty evaluation: "collegiality." For the reasons set forth in this statement, we view this development as highly unfortunate, and we believe that it should be discouraged....

.... Historically, "collegiality" has not infrequently been associated with ensuring homogeneity and hence with practices that exclude persons on the basis of their difference from a perceived norm. The invocation of "collegiality" may also threaten academic freedom. In the heat of important decisions regarding promotion or tenure, as well as other matters involving such traditional areas of faculty responsibility as curriculum or academic hiring, collegiality may be confused with the expectation that a faculty member display "enthusiasm" or "dedication," evince "a constructive attitude" that will "foster harmony," or display an excessive deference to administrative or faculty decisions where these may require reasoned discussion. Such expectations are flatly contrary to elementary principles of academic freedom, which protect a faculty member’s right to dissent from the judgments of colleagues and administrators.

I witnessed this problem in action in those "recent years." "Collegiality" as an excuse to demand conformity was key in prompting me to write and speak in 2009 and 2010 about the importance of what I termed "penumbral academic freedom." 

Are you part of "the team" at work?
(Rawpixel Ltd via Flickr CC BY 2.0)

The problem has only worsened. In fact, I see the "collegiality" expectation as a piece of the broader problem of corporate ideology that insists on everyone being a "team player." That's the coded language designed to alienate workers who hesitate to take on extra duties or to give up personal time without fair compensation. Too long in coming, the "quiet quitting" movement is a direct response to this self-serving worldview.

Though "team speak" is not a specially academic problem, the ever more corporatized public university embraces the jargon. Routinely, I hear my work for a public entity described as "public service." The characterization is invariably paired with a demand that I take on some additional responsibility with no more, if not with less, compensation, and certainly with less compensation than a similarly skilled colleague at a private institution.

The rhetoric is exhausting. I'm not on your "team." The faculty is not my football side. The office is not my church. The institutional "mission" is not my creed. Rather, I do a job. I get paid for the job. Quid pro quo. Often, I enjoy my work, and sometimes, I'm good at it. But it's work. Then (even when the switch is merely virtual) I go home. Where I don't work for anyone else. Where I have a family and a life. Where I hope to win the lottery and quit my job.

That arrangement should be a source of pride, not shame. A public institution performing a public service is no less laudable because its staff is paid rather than volunteer. When administrators, especially handsomely compensated deans and chancellors, break out the "public service" rhetoric, hat in hand, I want to ask why they cash their paychecks, if they're so committed to "public service."

Just as I digested the court's Barron decision and commentary last week, Professor Robert Steinbuch, a (genuinely collegial) colleague at another public law school, told me about a proposed amendment to his school's selection criteria for distinguished professorships. 

Apparently, there was dissatisfaction by some faculty, I assume for the very reasons the AAUP warned, that "collegiality" was an express factor in the assessment. Thus, the law school faculty development committee proposed changes including the following (red-ink deletions and additions as in original).

In awarding named professorships, the Dean shall consider criteria in addition to a candidate's meritorious work in their particular field, including but not limited to donor specifications associated with the title, the overall mission of the law school, and continued excellence in scholarship, teaching, service, civility, and respect and collegiality as outlined in the Bowen Faculty Handbook, and established University policy, or the Association of American Law Schools Best Practices.

....

III. SERVICE & COLLEGIALITY

....

In the space provided below, please describe any additional information you wish to provide reflecting exemplary service rendered in the spirit of civility, respect collegiality and collaboration at the law school and the university level and wider recognition at the national or international level.

....

Self-Assessment: Using the categories of scholarship, teaching, service, civility, and respect and collegiality in this Application, in the space provided below, please provide a candid assessment of how you would represent this Named Professorship while you held the award.

I suppose that any candidate selected for a distinguished professorship at this public law school, like anyone commenting on the performance of public officials in Southborough, Massachusetts, before Barron, "must be respectful and courteous" and refrain from the "rude" and "personal." Faculty governance is all well and good, as long as no one is offended.

Let the revolution be quelled.

Bank battles liability for client's pyramid scheme

The federal district court in Massachusetts has continued in recent months to resist Bank of America efforts to extricate itself from allegations of complicity in a pyramid scheme.

The liability theory working against Bank of America (BoA) in the Massachusetts litigation is a theory of ancillary, or secondary, liability.  I'm fond of ancillary liability theories, which put on the hook not just the actor that most directly injured a plaintiff, but the actor's compatriots.

MLM
by Zainabdawood77 via Wikimedia Commons CC BY-SA 4.0

The myriad ways an injured plaintiff can add defendants to a civil claim improve the plaintiff's odds of recovery. So it behooves the plaintiff attorney to think creatively about ancillary liability. Correspondingly, it behooves the defense attorney to be on guard.

A plaintiff can be especially in need of better odds when a principally responsible defendant acted criminally, because criminal defendants tend to come up short on money to right wrongs. Ancillary liability theories in cases of financial crime are especially compelling, because perpetrators of fraud, before they're apprehended, tend to live large on their proceeds and then declare bankruptcy.

Think Bernie Madoff. His wild ride merited a thrilling fictionalization starring Richard Dreyfuss and still drives public interest with a new docuseries on Netflix. That his victims tended to be wealthy adds a sweet note of schadenfreude for American viewers, the vast majority of whom are trapped on the wrong side of the wealth gap.

That same schadenfreude thirsts for the diffusion of liability to more defendants. Plenty of corporations, namely banks and investment firms, and their directors and officers, leached wealth off schemes such as Madoff's, but bear no liability to victims. Ostensibly, these earners did nothing wrong. They merely engaged in lawful business.

Overlay that dynamic on financial opportunism that victimizes ordinary people, and the thirst for accountability becomes about more than schadenfreude. Financial disasters such as the savings-and-loan crisis of the 1980s and the housing crisis of 2008 infused the public with burning resentments that still smolder in the wreckage of the American dream.

In these crises, people were victimized by risks that enterprise externalized while providing no corresponding benefits. When the civil justice system fails to recognize a wrong in the infliction of such losses, we can expect the very insults to the social fabric that the system is supposed to prevent: more wrongdoing, diminished confidence in public institutions, and, ultimately, vigilantism by the afflicted.

Ancillary liability rides to the rescue. Two liability theories are especially useful in cases of financial fraud: "conspiracy" and "aiding and abetting." Those imprecise terms are useful to convey the essence of it, but the civil theories should not be confused with their criminal counterparts, which give rise to the terms.

More accurate descriptions in civil terminology are, respectively, "common design" and "substantial assistance or encouragement." When a principal defendant cannot be held to account, a plaintiff may demand compensation from a co-defendant that participated in a tortious common design with the principal, or from a co-defendant that knowingly substantially assisted or encouraged the principal in accomplishing a tortious objective.

The availability of conspiracy and aiding-and-abetting liability theories in common law business torts is not settled and not without controversy. The commercial defense bar naturally regards theories derived from personal injury law as ill suited to business torts, in which harms are only economic. Commercial actors are expected to safeguard their own interests to some extent in commercial transactions, more than a person exposed to risk of physical injury. Compensating economic loss is not regarded as socially imperative as the making whole of injured persons. The issue offers a window into a broader debate over whether business torts are torts at all, or, rather, a form of common law market regulation. We can leave that question on the shelves of academia for now.

In multi-district litigation pending in the U.S. District of Massachusetts, plaintiffs allege that Bank of America, among other defendants, substantially assisted or encouraged a pyramid scheme, or, more precisely, a "multi-level marketing" scheme (MLM), in the provision of commercial banking services. Bank of America (BoA) vigorously denies the allegations. In August 2022, the court refused to dismiss BoA, finding the allegation of ancillary liability sufficient to warrant discovery. The court has refused to undo its ruling upon motions for reconsideration since.

The principal defendant in the case is Telexfree, a transnational company with U.S. headquarters in Massachusetts. Having started up in 2012, the multibillion-dollar enterprise was an MLM that enlisted "promoters" to sell voice-over-internet-protocol telecommunication services. For a deeper dive into the rank turpitude of MLMs, check out comedian John Oliver's classic treatment in 2016. True to form, after only a year or two, Telexfree collapsed in bankruptcy under pressure from regulators in various countries, especially the Securities and Exchange Commission in the United States and authorities in Brazil. Private civil suits followed.

There is no question that banks such as BoA literally "substantially assisted or encouraged" Telexfree in its illicit enterprise. A company, even an MLM, needs banking services. The tricky part, though, for plaintiffs successfully to allege tortious aiding and abetting, is to show the ancillary defendant's knowledge of the principal defendant's tortious objective. BoA denies that it knew what Telexfree was up to.

Such denials usually fly. Banks at least purport to do business at arm's length. That impression accords with the experience of the average consumer; we don't imagine bankers poring over our checking accounts to second-guess our spending. And there's a sound argument in public policy that banks should not be held liable for the misdoings of their clients. Imposing weighty responsibility on banks, at best, would slow down commerce, and, at worst, could render capital inaccessible, paralyzing the marketplace. 

At the same time, banks with large commercial clients, in fact, routinely do business at much less than arm's length. Banks may well scrutinize clients, indeed may be fiduciarily obliged to scrutinize clients, if their business will place large amounts of capital at risk. Accordingly, the pleadings in Telexfree indicate that BoA worked closely enough with Telexfree executives to know what they were up to.  Indeed, plaintiffs allege that at least one BoA executive voiced concern that Telexfree's business model was not legal, and evidence suggests that BoA closed at least one account for that reason.

Upon the pleadings, then, the district court ruled that BoA had enough "red flags" to know what Telexfree was up to. BoA objected, and the court conceded, that red flags do not equate to the actual knowledge required for aiding-and-abetting liability. But red flags are evidence enough to allow plaintiffs to dig deeper in discovery, the court concluded.

The ruling has caused some angst in the commercial sector, for fear of the slippery slope of bank liability. I respect the worry, but I welcome the court's fresh take and willingness to rebalance the equities in financial fraud. Madoff was a compelling curiosity, and I don't have much sympathy for his high-roller investors. But more troublesome in America are recurring financial crises that seem only to exacerbate wealth disparity. And at the transactional level, MLMs and their like continue to run rampant, defying regulators and bilking not just high rollers, but ordinary people. 

The rabble is restless, as accountability runs thin. Regulators, whether wearing black robes or bearing pointy heads, had better start noticing.

The case is In re: Telexfree Securities Litigation, No. 4:14-md-02566 (D. Mass. received Oct. 22, 2014). HT @ attorneys Anthony D. Mirenda, Leah Rizkallah, and Nick Bergara of Foley Hoag LLP, writing for Mondaq.

Sunshine filters in to Mass. jail with gloomy history

Bristol County, Mass., Sheriff Paul Heroux is seeking to close a jail with a gloomy history, and last week he gave journalists a look inside.

Built in 1888, the Ash Street Jail in New Bedford, Mass., housed Lizzie Borden during the 1893 trial in which she was acquitted of killing her father and stepmother. The "Lizzie Borden House" is a tourist attraction in nearby Fall River, Mass., today. Undoubtedly the site of executions in Bristol County, Ash Street is often said to be the site of the last public hanging in Massachusetts, in 1898. Records conflict (compare O'Neil with O'Neill, and see Barnes), but if it's not, it's close enough. The commonwealth changed its method of execution to the electric chair in 1900.

Purchase St., New Bedford, Mass., 1888.
Whaling Museum photo via New Bedford Guide.

One of the oldest jails in continuous operation in the United States, Ash Street gained new notoriety beginning in the late 20th century, especially after 1997 during the tenure of Sheriff Thomas Hodgson. In 25 years of service as sheriff, after prior service in local politics, Hodgson earned national press for hardline measures such as the removal of televisions and gym equipment from the jail, the imposition of room-and-board charges for detainees, the institution of chain gangs, and an offer of detainee labor to the Trump Administration to help build the border wall.

Meanwhile, Hodgson was unapologetic for conditions within the jail. Former detainees complained of uncontrolled mold, uncontained sewage, and intolerable cold and heat (WBUR). The complaints have been controverted. A former jail official lauded staff and facility in a 2022 letter to the New Bedford Guide, for example, and a news reporter, upon a tour of the facility in 2016, wrote favorably of a modernized interior.

When Heroux toppled Hodgson in the 2022 election, closing the Ash Street Jail was part of his platform.

President Trump and Sheriff Hodgson at the White House, 2019.
Trump White House Archives via Flickr (public domain)

Former Sheriff Hodgson is reminiscent of an infamous character in the annals of freedom of information law, Sheriff Thomas Lafayette Houchins, Jr., of Alameda County, California. Houchins lent his name to Houchins v. KQED, Inc., a 1978 U.S. Supreme Court case regarded generally as standing for the proposition that the First Amendment does not articulate a right of access to public places, if not more broadly foreclosing use of the First Amendment as any kind of freedom of information act.

In my 2012 casebook, Law of Access to Government, I contextualized Houchins with some biographical information about the sheriff (relying on sources such as the East Bay Times).

Thomas Lafayette Houchins, Jr., was a leader in the sheriff 's department in the 1960s and earned a reputation for uncompromising law enforcement. A veteran law enforcement officer, Houchins had joined the department in 1946 after serving in World War II as a Marine Corps fighter pilot. He was elected sheriff in 1975 and retired in 1979. In 1969, Houchins commanded a force of sixty or more deputies in crowd control at what became an infamously tragic concert headlined by the Rolling Stones. He recounted thirty years later: "Some guy jumped off an overpass because somebody told him he could fly. They lied. Another jumped into the [Delta Mendota Canal] because they told him he could swim. They lied to him, too.... I think we had five deaths and five births, so we came out even." Houchins died at his California home in 2005.

The Houchins case centered on news media investigation of the Santa Rita jail. Reporters wanted to tour "Little Greystone," a part of the jail in which "shocking and debasing conditions" were alleged to have caused inmate illnesses and deaths.

Houchins is one of a family of First Amendment access cases in which the Burger Court put the brakes on the liberal interpretations of the First Amendment that characterized the civil rights era. However, to the dismay of President Richard Nixon, who appointed him, Chief Justice Warren Burger was only marginally effective in rallying the Court to reverse the civil rights direction of the predecessor Earl Warren Court.

Houchins reflects that equivocation. Though Houchins's bar review flash card might read simply "no 1A access to public places," the decision came from a fractured Court of only seven justices and an opinion of only three. Harry Blackmun and Thurgood Marshall did not participate, the former having had recent surgery and the latter recusing. Burger was joined by only two others, including his successor as Chief Justice, William Rehnquist, in the opinion of the Court. They formed a majority of four with the addition of Justice Potter Stewart. (Read more about the fracas behind the scenes from Matthew Schafer.)

Concurring, Stewart joined Burger's conclusion on the facts of the case; he had been the author of two prior Court decisions, in 1974, rejecting press access to prisons or prisoners. Yet in his opinion in Houchins, he speculated that media might articulate a First Amendment claim on better facts. With three dissenters arguing at least as much, thus outnumbering the Burger contingent, Houchins arguably left the jailhouse gate open to a First Amendment theory, if you'll forgive the metaphor. Media law aficionados will recognize a pattern akin to Branzburg v. Hayes (1972), in which similar equivocation on the Court, aided later by clever advocacy from media lawyers, left the problem of constitutional reporter's privilege in disarray.

Much of the dispute in Houchins can be characterized as a frame-of-reference problem. In its broadest frame, Houchins is about public access to places to hold public officials accountable. That seems reasonable. But when I teach Houchins, students are quick to find the media position untenable, reading the case more narrowly as about reporters demanding access to any part of the prison, perhaps even with minimal advance notice.

That dichotomy in framing plays out in the public protests and media frustration over access to the Ash Street Jail in recent decades. There were tours; the writer who toured Ash Street in 2016, cited above, was then a reporter for public radio WBUR. Just like in Houchins, protestors and former detainees of the facility complained that public tours were limited and staged, showing reporters only what officials wanted them to see. Officials said that wider public access would jeopardize the security of the facility and the people inside, both detainees and workers.

The theoretical solution that emerged from Houchins, such as the case held, is that supervision of "non-public public places" should be accomplished not through the free press of the First Amendment, but through political accountability at the ballot box. To some degree, that's what happened when Heroux became sheriff in 2022. At the same time, prison conditions raise a peculiar problem in majoritarianism, familiar in criminal justice and civil rights contexts, and resonant in debate today over policing: The political system is not a reliable way to protect the rights of jailed persons, a minority class widely regarded with little sympathy.

On balance, I don't know whether the truth of the Ash Street Jail is closer to the horrifying complaints of former detainees or to the confident assurances of public officials. Whether constitutionally or statutorily, sunshine must be allowed to penetrate prison walls.

Reversal in eldercare case highlights limits of qualified immunity, low injury threshold of intentional torts

Boston police officer assists an elderly pedestrian in 2014.
(Alex Klavens CC BY 2.0 via Flickr)

A dispute over elder care occasioned treatment of qualified immunity and a range of tort theories by the Massachusetts Appeals Court yesterday.

Gallagher v. South Shore Hospital arose from an apparently mismanaged effort to investigate and redress a report of elder abuse; the report proved unfounded. The plaintiff caretaker and elder man alleged that a police officer and state agent entered their home without sufficient suspicion or warrant and removed the man from the home, and that a hospital then held and tested the man for five days against her and his will.

Most of the court's opinion comprised blow-by-blow facts and the Fourth Amendment analysis. However, the court opined as well on a range of common law tort claims against the defendants: a police officer, a state-contracted elder service agent, and South Shore Hospital, Inc., for trespass, false imprisonment, and battery. The police officer defended on grounds of qualified immunity, inter alia.

In proceedings on various motions, two trial court judges awarded summary judgment to all defendants. The trial courts held the state actors protected by qualified immunity and the tort claims flawed.

In the estimation of the Appeals Court, the trial courts erred. The Appeals Court reversed and remanded as to all defendants, finding that live questions of fact precluded the summary judgments. In my estimation, the error on qualified immunity was informative, and the errors on tort theories were egregious.

In articulating the qualified immunity theory, the police defendant and eldercare agent pointed to a concurrence by Justice Kavanaugh in a 2020 U.S. Supreme Court case, Caniglia v. Strom, in which the Court held unanimously that a warrantless home entry and firearm seizure violated the Fourth Amendment. The Appeals Court explained:

[Officer] Pompeo argues that the facts at bar are similar to the example of an elder welfare check that Justice Kavanaugh described in his concurring opinion in Caniglia. In his example, "an elderly man is uncharacteristically absent from Sunday church services and repeatedly fails to answer his phone throughout the day and night. A concerned relative calls the police and asks the officers to perform a wellness check." Justice Kavanaugh stated that "[o]f course," in those circumstances, the officers may enter the home. Pompeo argues that she reasonably thought [elder plaintiff] LaPlante was injured or in imminent danger on June 25 because no one responded to the doorbell, knocks, or telephone call, and because [caretaker] Gallagher had left LaPlante in the car with strangers two days earlier.

The trial court found these facts to constitute the requisite exigency to enter the home. The Appeals Court disagreed.

The facts in this case are nothing like the hypothetical Justice Kavanaugh described. The implication of the hypothetical is that the elderly man lives alone. LaPlante did not. Moreover, Gallagher and LaPlante were not out of touch or nonresponsive, as was the elder in Justice Kavanaugh's hypothetical. Pompeo and another elder care worker had seen LaPlante two days earlier ... and his appearance was not a cause for concern....

Further, even if Pompeo could see LaPlante on the couch [through a window], neither he nor Gallagher had any obligation to answer the door or respond to the knock. "When law enforcement officers who are not armed with a warrant knock on a door, they do no more than any private citizen might do. And whether the person who knocks on the door and requests the opportunity to speak is a police officer or a private citizen, the occupant has no obligation to open the door or to speak." Kentucky v. King (U.S. 2011). A jury could find that Gallagher's lack of response to a knock on the door when she was not expecting visitors, and her absence from the room in which LaPlante was sleeping, did not give rise to a reasonable belief by Pompeo that LaPlante was unattended and suffering an emergency.

In an age in which the public is increasingly skeptical of police qualified immunity, the analysis is refreshing for taking seriously the doctrine's objective check on police perception. The likely failure of qualified immunity here leaves the state defendants vulnerable to the civil rights and tort claims on remand.

On the tort claims, the trial courts erred egregiously in dismissing for perceived want of injury. My first-semester, 1L Torts students can tell you that none of trespass, false imprisonment, nor battery requires physical injury, in the sense of impact. These intentional torts all balance a higher culpability state with a lower injury threshold. The lower threshold rests upon the theory that tort objectives such as preserving the peace and averting vigilantism justify recognition of insults to personal integrity or honor, even in the absence of physical or pecuniary loss. The notion is as old as the Roman law of iniuria.

As to trespass, the Appeals Court opined, quoting Massachusetts high court precedents, "It has long been the 'general rule' in this Commonwealth that 'possession of real estate is sufficient to enable the parties in possession to maintain an action against a stranger for interfering with that possession.' Proof of injury is not required; 'the action is founded merely on the possession.'"

Similarly, false imprisonment is accomplished by the plaintiff's awareness of confinement, and battery by an "offensive," that is, non-consensual nor justified-by-social-contract, touching of the plaintiff. In false imprisonment, "[i]t is enough if a person's personal liberty is restrained," the Appeals Court opined. And even if the elder man, not legally competent at the time, "was not aware of his confinement, Gallagher, his proxy, was." The court further relied on, while expressly not adopting, similar sentiments in the Second Restatement of Torts.

On each theory, the plaintiff is permitted to prove compensable loss above and beyond the minimal, prerequisite condition of injury. The caretaker alleged that the elder man in fact deteriorated physically while in hospital care, evidenced by an enlarged bedsore and diminished mobility. And the facts established to date indicate that the elder man had been subject to blood and urine testing in the hospital without the consent of the caretaker, his only proxy: a more-than-de-minimis, physical insult.

The same reasoning that unwound qualified immunity negated any defense of emergency on which the trial courts relied to dismiss the tort claims as a matter of law. And the hospital claimed no emergency over the elder man's five-day residency, such as would have justified failing to seek the caretaker's consent.

Finally, I was struck by a footnote the court dropped that speaks not only to the sad facts of this case, but to the broader context of our present, vigorous public policy discussion about the role of police in society and our infrastructure for social services, such as physical and mental healthcare. The court lamented:

[The eldercare agent who precipitated investigation and police involvement,] Bessette[,] and Gallagher were strangers to one another. Perhaps if Bessette had agreed to assist Gallagher by sitting with LaPlante for an hour while Gallagher did grocery shopping, she could have accomplished her investigatory purpose—allowing her to speak with LaPlante alone— and we might not have a case at all. Pasqualone v. Gately (Mass. 1996) (if officer had asked gun owner to voluntarily turn over his weapons after his license was revoked rather than demand them with considerable show of force, we might have a different case).

Recently, my wife and I read in the New York Times Magazine about the "viral nightmare" that exploded at Arizona State University from students' feud over the "multicultural safe space," fueled in no small part by the university's hyper-formalist response.

"If only someone had sat them down and made them listen to each other ... ," my wife sighed.

The instant case is Gallagher v. South Shore Hospital, Inc., No. 21-P-207 (Mass. App. Ct. Oct. 6, 2022) (temporary posting). Justice Vickie L. Henry wrote the opinion for a unanimous panel that also comprised Chief Justice Green and Justice Sullivan.

Land dispute implicates 'second element of second path of second stage' of anti-SLAPP analysis, and we're all supposed to pretend the world's better for it

The Supreme Judicial Court studies its anti-SLAPP framework.
Argonne National Laboratory CC BY-NC-SA 2.0 via Flickr

Anti-SLAPP analysis in Massachusetts has become a Rube Goldberg machine disguising little more than an "I know it when I see it" test—

—so I contend, and I offer a Massachusetts Appeals Court case decided Tuesday as evidence.

I've written many times about anti-SLAPP, including my contention that the device can be used meritoriously, but is as often deployed to contrary ends, a sword for Goliath to strike down David; the legion dysfunctions of tort law that anti-SLAPP amplifies; and the possible better solution to be found in process torts and similar related mechanisms of accountability in law practice and procedure.

As Massachusetts courts have struggled to differentiate meritorious actions from SLAPPs under the Commonwealth's characteristically convoluted statute, I ultimately gave up trying to keep up with the ever more complicated thicket of rules and procedures leaching out from appellate decisions. So The Savory Tort should not be your first stop if you're trying to get a granular grip on the current landscape here.

Yet I can't help but write about this most recent appellate opinion. To my reading, the court poorly disguised its doubts about burgeoning and burdensome anti-SLAPP process, and whether time, money, and justice can all be saved at the same time.

The underlying dispute was a land matter. The plaintiff, seeking quiet title and adverse possession, was partially successful in a somewhat protracted litigation. Later, if before the expiry of a three-year limitations period, the respondent from the land action filed the present case, alleging abuse of process and intentional infliction of emotional distress by way of the earlier case. The land plaintiff from the earlier case, now the process and IIED defendant, raised the Massachusetts anti-SLAPP statute in defense.

First, I take the occurrence here of abuse of process as evidence in support of my position that anti-SLAPP is often really about process wrongs. Though here the anti-SLAPP movant is the one accused of abuse of process, it is typical in process tort cases for accusations of misconduct to fly simultaneously in both directions. Regardless of whether a jurisdiction recognizes abuse of process as a cause of action per se, courts have the power to manage process objections with a range of existing tools. I wrote about abuse of process appearing as a defensive mechanism, essentially a better tailored anti-SLAPP device, in South Africa. And my 1L torts class just yesterday read Lee Tat Development, a well reasoned 2018 opinion, included in my casebook, in which the Singapore Court of Appeals both rejected the abuse of process as a tort action and thoroughly discussed alternatives.

The Massachusetts Appeals court devoted a dense 10 pages to the blow by blow between the parties in the instant case. I won't retell it here. What's compelling is what the court had to say about its job in reviewing the Superior Court's anti-SLAPP ruling. Quoting the Supreme Judicial Court (SJC) in the Exxon case, which I reported recently, the Appeals Court's opening line oozes disrelish:

"This case involves yet another example of the 'ever-increasing complexity of the anti-SLAPP case law,' and the 'difficult and time consuming' resolution of special motions to dismiss pursuant to the 'anti-SLAPP' statute."

The partial quotes read like the court is feigning innocent pleading to the Supremes, "These are your words. We're just repeating them."

In analyzing the instant case according to the painstaking legal framework that the SJC has eked out of case experience, the Appeals Court located the present dispute in "the second element of the second path of the second stage."

What is the second element of the second path of the second stage, you ask?

Well, it's that the "judge must 'assess the "totality of the circumstances pertinent to the nonmoving party's asserted primary purpose in bringing its claim," and ... determine whether the nonmoving party's claim constitutes a SLAPP suit.'"

Isn't that the whole game?

I humbly propose that the good ship Commonsense has already sailed when we start talking about a second element of a second path of a second stage.

The Appeals Court divulged a tone somewhere between surprise and pride when it concluded "that the [Superior Court] judge followed the augmented framework sequentially, assiduously, and judiciously." Adjectives "comprehensive" and "thoughtful" followed.

Then, around page 27, the court hints at deeper problems.

The [landowners'] arguments demonstrate some of the difficulties associated with the application of the augmented framework. On one hand, the present action presents as a typical SLAPP case in that a supposedly wealthy developer sued abutters of supposedly modest means for petitioning in court to challenge a development project.... On the other hand, the [landowners] averred that far from being wealthy and powerful developers, they were a real estate broker and part-time bookkeeper attempting to develop a single-family residential property, while the [anti-SLAPP movants] were not the "individual citizens of modest means" contemplated by the anti-SLAPP law. The parties contested each other's motivations and representations. There is an inherent difficulty and, in some cases, prematurity in requiring a judge to make credibility determinations and discern a party's primary motivation predicated on affidavits, pleadings, and proffers, and not on a more complete evidentiary record scrutinized through cross-examination.

Some pages later, the court returned more directly but cautiously to the question of anti-SLAPP efficacy:

In this regard, as we have noted, the [landowners] insist that the present action cries out for a jury trial as the only appropriate way to resolve critical credibility disputes and determine the parties' true motivations. This argument has some force in that there are obvious difficulties in ... requiring judges to be fairly assured that the challenged claim is not a SLAPP suit, absent full discovery and testimony tested through cross-examination. Yet, the special motion to dismiss remedy exists, in large part, to avoid costly litigation and trial.... In any event, it is for the Supreme Judicial Court or the Legislature to address and resolve these concerns should they so choose.

At the tail end of a 34-page appellate opinion on meta-litigation over a small land matter and a lot of bad blood, one might wonder how much "costly litigation" was avoided.

The problem is with anti-SLAPP itself. The court is being asked to adjudge the motives of a litigant in the absence of evidence for the very purpose of avoiding the cost of collecting evidence.

We don't have a SLAPP problem. We have a transaction costs problem. Slapping a bandage on it with anti-SLAPP only invites perverse results. And the harder one tries to get right a call about evidence without the evidence, the more costly and perverse the results will be.

The case is Nyberg v. Wheltle, No. 21-P-791 (Mass. App. Ct. Sept. 13, 2022) (temporary court posting). Judge Eric Neyman wrote the opinion for a unanimous panel.

UPDATE, Sept. 16: Notwithstanding the ill wisdom of anti-SLAPP, the fad flourishes. Europe and the UK continue their headlong advances toward legislation, and a new bill in the U.S. Congress seeks to bring anti-SLAPP to U.S. federal courts. Enjoy, judges! I don't expect that the extinction of the defamation cause of action will do much to remedy our problems with misinformation and vitriolic divisiveness, but that seems to be the experiment we're determined to carry out.

Motel not liable for guest's suicide, court rules, despite family warning of risk, asking for room number

CC0 1.0 via Wikimedia Commons

The Massachusetts Appeals Court yesterday rejected Motel 6 liability for the suicide of a guest.

The September 1 decision broke no new ground, but reiterated the interrelationship of duty doctrines in negligence and Massachusetts repudiation of the common law "suicide rule."

Decedent Michael C. Bonafini took his own life in a room of the Motel 6 in Chicopee, Massachusetts, just north of Springfield in 2015. The mother and wife of the decedent blamed the motel because they went there in the night and morning trying to reach him, and motel staff would not reveal his room number. In the morning, the mother told the motel clerk that the decedent was at risk of suicide. The clerk called the room, but the decedent answered and immediately hung up. He was found dead when the motel manager entered the room at noon checkout time.

The case implicates potentially conflicting duty relationships in the common law of negligence. The reputed "suicide rule" of historical common law held that there can be no liability for a suicide. At the same time, common law recognizes an affirmative duty of an innkeeper to a guest, and the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court has recognized a duty to prevent suicide in some circumstances.

Historically, courts were loath to impose accident liability for an intentional act of self-harm on an earlier-in-time actor, especially when the intentional act was an attempt to commit suicide. The conclusion could be reached either by ruling that there was no duty to prevent another from intentional self-harm, which usually was criminalized, or by reasoning that the abrupt, violent, and intentional act of suicide dispositively interrupted the requisite chain of proximate causation.

It's arguable that there never was a "suicide rule," per se, rather a doctrine of duty and causation that was informed by social norms. Norms change. Suicide is less often today regarded as a matter for criminal justice, even if criminal laws remain on the books to justify the intervention of authorities. The trend in tort law is to employ the usual doctrines of duty and causation to analyze the facts of each case. That said, the "suicide rule" still holds sway, because the doctrines of duty and causation still disfavor the imposition of an affirmative duty to prevent injury and disfavor negligence liability for causal actors earlier in time than intentional injurers (this blog, Feb. 9, 2021).

On the question of duty, the instant case is complicated in two respects, one on the law and one on the facts. First, an innkeeper-guest relationship is one in which common law historically does impose an affirmative duty, on the innkeeper for the protection of the guest. Second, insofar as an affirmative duty might exist, it can be predicated on knowledge of risk, which the decedent's mother gave to the motel clerk.

The innkeeper-guest relationship did not get the plaintiffs to the finish line. The purpose of the common law duty is to oblige an innkeeper, like a landlord, to protect the guest from risks the innkeeper might know about, and the guest does not, in the vein of premises liability; or, at the extreme, risks of any nature that an innkeeper might be better positioned to mitigate than a guest can.

The court summarized past cases in which Massachusetts courts recognized an innkeeper-to-guest duty: failure to prevent stabbing by intruder for want of an adequate security system; failure to protect guest from fire set by arsonist; and failure to prevent battery by another guest. All three examples implicate an intermediate intentional, and tortious or criminal actor. But in the first two cases, the causal risks relate to the premises: a security system and fire response. There is no intermediately causal premises risk in the instant case.

The battery case seems more on point, and the court here did not make the distinction plain. But on the facts of that case, the plaintiff was stabbed at an event for which the defendant innkeeper had hired security guards. The case is best understood as a duty voluntarily undertaken by the defendant, and then executed negligently. In one count based on innkeeper-guest duty and one count based on ordinary negligence, the plaintiff complained that the security guards had negligently failed to restrain a drunken patron. The jury returned a generalized plaintiff's verdict that the court concluded was supported by the evidence.

So the problem for the plaintiff-representative in the instant case is that the decedent was not injured by the premises, and the defendant motel voluntarily undertook no duty to protect the decedent beyond the usual duties of an innkeeper. In fact, the innkeeper-guest duty arguably cuts against the plaintiff's position. Were a clerk to violate a guest's privacy by revealing the room number to a requester concealing ill intentions, the motel could be held liable for injury inflicted on the guest by the requester-intruder.

That said, the decedent's mother and wife were understandably frustrated with the clerk's stubbornness, under the circumstances, and their fears were vindicated tragically. The plaintiff's best strategy was to tie the alleged misconduct of the defendant to the responsibilities of an innkeeper, moving the causal focus away from the decedent's intentional act and changing the conversation from negligent failure to act to negligent action. In this vein, the plaintiff alleged not that the clerk necessarily should have revealed the room number, but that, instead of telephoning and giving up, the clerk should have summoned police to conduct a wellness check.

The court did not indulge the plaintiff's theory long enough to parse the details. But the basic problem even with the plaintiff's best gloss on the case is that the mother and wife could have called the police, too, and did not. Indeed, the court, fairly or not, faulted the family for being coy in characterizing the risk: "Indeed, all that is alleged is that [the] mother and wife informed motel employees that [decedent] was at risk of suicide, and asked for his room number so they could assist him. They did not tell the employees that [he] had stated an intention or plan to commit suicide or that he had recently attempted suicide." Perhaps the family feared negative repercussions of police intervention.

The plaintiff's case was buoyed modestly if insufficiently by Massachusetts high court holdings that a university may be held liable for a student's suicide. In 2018, the Supreme Judicial Court ruled that MIT did not owe a duty to a student who committed suicide on the facts of the case (this blog, May 7, 2018). But the court left the door open to a different analysis on different facts, and, the next year, the court allowed a case to go forward against Harvard (this blog, Sept. 30, 2019).

The Appeals Court distinguished the instant case from the Harvard case because the motel did not have enough information to ground an affirmative duty. In the Harvard case, the court looked to "stated plans or intentions to commit suicide." Here, again, the mother and daughter were coy as to the severity of the risk. And, the court added, there was no evidence that anything the decedent said or did suggested suicidal intentions to motel staff. Indeed, while a university knows a lot about its students, sometimes even affirmatively providing mental healthcare, innkeepers, the court opined, "usually are unlikely to know much—if anything—about their guests."

Incidentally, criminal liability for another person's suicide is a different problem. I mention it only because Massachusetts is the state in which Michelle Carter was convicted of involuntary manslaughter in the suicide death of Conrad Roy. A civil case was settled in 2019. Just a couple of weeks ago, I watched The Girl from Plainville (2022), a serial dramatization, and I don't recommend it. Maybe too soon to be reminded that the matter was a tragedy for everyone involved.

The instant case in the Appeals Court is Bonafini v. G6 Hospitality, LLC, No. 20-P-1409 (Sept. 1, 2022) (temporary court posting). Justice Gabrielle R. Wolohojian wrote the opinion of the unanimous panel.

McMahon debates incumbent insider in DA race

[UPDATE, Sept. 7, 2022.] With 90% reporting, the N.Y. Times lists Quinn prevailing with 65% of the vote to McMahon's 35%. This result is not surprising with a well known, insider incumbent. McMahon's strong showing as an out-of-the-box challenger will, I hope, keep the DA's office mindful of its accountability to the public. And I hope we'll see McMahon again in politics and public service soon.

Shannon McMahon and Thomas Quinn, candidates in the September 6 primary for Bristol County, Mass., district attorney, faced off August 12 in what South Coast Today described as a "bare-knuckles debate," sponsored by Dartmouth media and available on YouTube, below.

McMahon is a former student of my advisership.  I assessed the race in the spring.

Charitable immunity does not protect diocese from claims of sexual assault in 1960s, high court rules

St. Michael's Cathedral, Springfield, Mass.
(John Phelan via Wikimedia CC BY-SA 3.0)

Charitable immunity does not protect Catholic Church leaders in Springfield, Mass., from civil allegations of sexual assault, but it does shield them against liability for negligent supervision, the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court ruled yesterday.

Pseudonymous plaintiff John Doe alleged sexual abuse, including a "'brutal[] rape'" while being held down by fellow altar boys and priests in the 1960s. Doe alleged that he first recovered memory of the abuse in 2013; he first complained to the church in 2014.

After investigations, the church offered the plaintiff an apology in 2019, and in 2021, he sued over both the abuse in the 1960s and the handling of the complaint since 2014. The Superior Court denied the defendants common law charitable immunity and ecclesiastical abstention under the First Amendment, prompting interlocutory appeal. The Supreme Judicial Court declined any First Amendment question as premature in advance of final judgment.

By statute, Massachusetts curbed charitable immunity to a $20,000 quantitative limit ($100,000 in medmal) in 1971. But the statute is not retroactive to Doe's 1960s claims.

The purpose of common law charitable immunity, the court reasoned, is to protect charitable actors "from the burden of litigation and trial." But in the context of sexual assault allegations, the defendants cannot be said to have been performing a charitable function. In contrast, "negligent supervision ... is exactly the sort of allegation against which common-law charitable immunity was meant to protect," for it implicates managerial functions in the selection of subordinates.

The case arises in the home state of the Boston Globe Spotlight team, whose 2002-04 investigation surfacing church abuse became the subject of a 2015 feature film. The bishop named in the instant suit as a perpetrator, who died in 1982, was implicated in the Spotlight investigation.

The case is Doe v. Roman Catholic Bishop of Springfield, No. SJC-13219 (posted temporarily). Justice David A. Lowy wrote the unanimous opinion.

Lawsuit alleges excessive force against federal immigration detainees held near public law school

⚠ Warning: indecent language.

Latino detainees of the Bristol County House of Corrections, which is located just three-quarters of a mile from the University of Massachusetts Law School, sued the county sheriff and Immigration and Customs Enforcement, alleging serious physical abuses.

Filed in April, the complaint, stating Bivens and § 1983 claims for excessive force, is available from the federal district court docket at Court Listener. The factual allegations detail incidents of violence and some not so flattering quotations of officers, such as: "Shut the fuck up. You bitches are a bunch of immigrants without papers. You have no rights."

Sheriff Hodgson shakes hands with former President Trump
at a White House event recognizing sheriffs in 2019.
(Official White House photo by Joyce N. Boghosian via Flickr.)

Named in the lawsuit is Bristol County, Mass., four-term "tough on crime" Sheriff Thomas M. Hodgson. This lawsuit is not his first tangle with unsavory allegations.

A 2020 report by the office of Attorney General Maura Healey determined that authorities employed excessive force in violation of the civil rights of federal immigration detainees (press release). New Bedford, Mass., tort lawyer Betty I. Ussach has written letters to local media complaining of the high cost of defending Hodgson's style of criminal justice (EastBayRI, Dartmouth Week Today).

But in past years, Hodgson's name recognition has seemed to work a no-publicity-is-bad-publicity magic in his reelection bids. Hodgson faces a slate of challengers this year.

I wonder whether the geographic juxtaposition of the Bristol prison and the Immigration Clinic at the state's only public law school is not telling of state conflict-of-interest policy, which would complicate if not prohibit clinic litigation against state and local actors. 

Clinic director Professor Emerita Irene Scharf retired just one one month ago. She exited amid some turbulence over how and even whether the law school would take responsibility for existing clients. It remains to be seen what the clinic will look like under new management. Scharf and sociology and anthropology Professor Lisa Maya Knauer have labored diligently for decades on behalf of the immigrant Latino community in south coast Massachusetts. But university personnel at Dartmouth, Mass., far from the aegis of the "flagship campus" at Amherst, must tread lightly in politically sensitive matters, lest they jeopardize the very existence of the system's less favored locations.

The present lawsuit, Morocho v. Bristol County Sheriff's Office (D. Mass. filed Apr. 29, 2022), was filed by Washington, D.C.-based NGO Rights Behind Bars and signed by its Boston-based litigation director, attorney Oren Nimni. Nimni is a graduate of Northeastern Law and an adjunct professor at Suffolk Law. So let the record reflect that monied Boston private law schools can make grief for public officials, too.