I originally reported that the raid was largely conducted by the Pearl River Basin Narcotics Task Force, who asked Officer Jones to come along. That came from my conversations with Rhonda Cooper, Maye’s first attorney, as well as a December 29, 2001 article from the Hattiesburg American which said that Jones conducted the raid with “eight other officers who were also from the Pearl River Basin Narcotics Task Force and the Jefferson Davis County Sheriff’s Department.”

That article wasn’t quite right, and neither was I.

As it turns out, only one officer from the narcotics task force went along on the raid. Jones seems to have assembled an ad-hoc team of eight police officers to conduct the raid, including himself; a volunteer police officer from Bassfield named Phillip Allday; Darryl Graves, the task force officer; another Prentiss police department officer; and officers from both the Jefferson Davis County Sheriff’s department and the Bassfield department.

I think this reflects even more poorly on the way the raid was handled. Only one of the eight officers — the officer from the task force — had any narcotics training at all. He was on the four-man team who executed the warrant for the other apartment, that of Jamie Smith. Which means none of the officers who raided Maye’s home had training in serving a high-risk narcotics warrant.

Here’s another troubling tidbit — it was the ununiformed volunteer cop who kicked down Maye’s door. Also, given his volunteer status, Allday wasn’t authorized to announce “police” prior to entering the apartment.

Got them back from Kinko’s. And they’re screwed up. I asked Kinko’s to break them up into 50-page PDF files instead of one enormous 500-page file. And of course they did just the opposite.

So I’m going to take them back tomorrow morning. Hope to have them up before the weekend.

Hayne is the medical examiner who performed the autopsy on Officer Ron Jones after the raid on Cory Maye’s apartment.

Hayne’s testimony was crucial in securing Maye’s conviction. His testimony about the trajectory of the bullet found in Jones’ body cast doubt on Maye’s version of how the raid transpired. Maye’s current lawyer, Bob Evans, thinks jurors dismissed just about everything Cory Maye said after hearing Hayne’s testimony.

I’ll get into this a bit more when we start going through the trial transcripts. There’s also some misleading of the jury on the part of the prosecution involved, as well as some ineffective counsel issues with repsect to Maye’s first lawyer.

I bring Hayne up because the guy’s credibility took a serious blow this week, due to some truly bizarre testimony he gave in an unrelated murder case. In that case, the prosecution had claimed that two defendants simultaneously put their hands on the trigger of a gun and, together, fired the bullet that killed the victim.

I suppose that’s possible, though strange. What’s revealing, however, is that Hayne testified on behalf of the prosecution that in his expert opinion, the wound itself supported the prosecution’s theory. From the the Jackson Clarion-Ledger:

In last year’s murder trial of Tyler Edmonds, prosecutors argued the teenager, then 13, fired the gun together with his 26-year-old half sister, Kristi Fulgham. Prosecutors said in opening arguments, “They both put their finger on the trigger, and you’re going to hear how they both shot and killed Joey Fulgham.”

[...]

During the 2004 trial, forensic pathologist Dr. Steven Hayne testified it was more likely Joey Fulgham was killed by two people rather than one. “I could favor two people involved in the positioning,” Hayne testified. “It’s consistent with two people involved. I can’t exclude one, but I think it would be less likely.”

If you’re wondering how in the hell a medical examiner could tell from a bullet wound how many hands were on the trigger of the gun that created it, you’re not alone:

Judges on the Mississippi Court of Appeals questioned today how a pathologist can conclude more than one person fired a gun.

[...]

In today’s hearing before a three-judge panel, Edmonds’ lawyer, Robert McDuff of Jackson, called such a conclusion “voodoo science.”

Judge L. Joseph Lee agreed: “It’s impossible to testify as to that. If there’s one bullet, you can’t say whether it was fired by one person or three.”

I’ll say. It’s a bit like saying you can tell by the bullet hole what color eyes the killer had. Or that a very strong man squeezed the trigger.

Lexis and Google searches on Hayne show a guy with a very long history of offering testimony that favors prosecutors in murder trials, and that tends to exonerate from wrongdoing police officers accused of using excessive force. In fact, he’s described in a couple articles as a “longtime prosecution witness,” or words to that effect. Of course, that in itself doesn’t necessarily impeach his credibility — he was also an official medical examiner for the state of Mississippi for quite a long time.

But the case above offers at least a glimpse into just how far Dr. Hayne will go to offer support for the state’s case against a defendant. If the “two hands on the gun” case is any indicator at all of Dr. Hayne’s propensity to favor the prosecution, I think we have pretty good reason to be suspicious any time the guy takes the stand. I’m not certain about this, but I’d guess that it’s pretty rare for a medical examiner to be rebuked by an appellate court judge.

Keep this in mind when we discuss Dr. Hayne’s testimony in Cory Maye’s trial.

Another reader writes:

As a retired SWAT Commander, I have several questions about the shooting. In no way am I convinced that Maye belongs in prison, much less on death row. The PDF docs are lame. Surely there is more than what is posted to have a judge sign a search warrant.

If the officer had lived, he would have been asked if he kept a surveillance log on the duplex. This should have included times, vehicle descriptions, and tag numbers.

As a supervisor I would have never have approved even asking a judge for a warrant, and I don’t know of a judge that would have signed one given this lack of information. Most departments require informants to be registered, which means the informant should have been known. Even if the department didn’t require registration, other officers usually know at the least the info given, if not who the actual snitch was.

[...]

I cannot believe Maye was convicted with the piss poor information I have seen.

I would be willing to speak to you and the defense attorney to see if I could assist Mr. Maye in his case. I do ask that my name not be used and to keep my information private.

I’m willing to grant that things are perhaps done differently in small towns than they are in more urban areas. Still, the lack of any documentation whatsoever from Officer Jones with respect to the investigation leading up to the warrants is troubling, to say the least. You’d think he’d have made some record of his investigation. And you’d think the judge would have asked to see some of that documentation before signing off. And given that one of the keys to understanding Maye’s state of mind that night is knowing whether or not police actually had cause to be at his apartment, the lack of documentation also becomes pretty convenient.

I’ll have more on this when we start looking at the trial transcripts. According to Kinko’s, they’ll be done on Wednesday. Which means I may not have them up until Thursday or Friday.

A reader writes in response to the Maye case:

I’m also a victim of a drug raid. My house was raided at 10 p.m. by overzealous cops looking for a meth lab. I fortunately cannot abide weapons of any kind—all they found was a marijuana pipe and a teaspoon of weed, enough to give me three years probation, loss of voting rights, passport, etc.

I was ass’t. press secretary to Gov. Jerry Brown when he ran against Clinton back in ‘92. The judge sneered and rolled her eyes at the mention of his name. But, if I were not broke and disabled (my use of marijuana really was medicinal), I’d help this Maye guy out in a heartbeat.

They came in the mail today.

I’m off to Kinko’s at lunch to get copies and PDFs made.

Daniel Glover has written a nice piece on Cory Maye and the blogosphere for The Hotline.

Media coverage thus far still seems to be limited to features of the “watching the blogs” variety. But hey, that’s better than nothing.

I’m really not all that interested in the “blogs vs. the MSM” angle of this story. Nor am I interested in the “why aren’t the liberals helping this guy instead of Tookie” angle. Blogs all over the political map have weighed in on this, generally overwhelmingly in favor of Maye. If it takes a NY Times investigation or Barbara Streisand’s activism to get Maye some justice, I’m more than okay with that (though given that Gov. Barbour is one of the people we need to convince, the latter would probably be counterproductive).

Anyone who wants to help us get this guy a new trial, a pardon, or clemency is welcome. Gun rights activist, civil libertarian, or Hollywood liberal — I don’t particularly care how you got here.

I’ll be discussing Cory Maye in just a sec.

Listen here.

The Mississippi Dept. of Corrections apparently lists Maye’s first name as “Corey.”

Every news article lists it as “Cory.”

I emailed public defender Bob Evans, who confirmed with Maye himself that it is indeed “Cory.”

I’ll be on the Air America affiliate in Pheonix tomorrow to talk about the Cory Maye case.

11:00am Eastern Time on the Charles Goyette Show.

Live stream here.

Somone has nominated the Cory Maye entry for deletion from Wikipedia, apparently on the grounds that he’s a “non-notable” person.

Seems a little rash to me. No, he hasn’t yet been covered by a major media outlet. But I’d say it’s pretty clear that a guy on death row with significant questions about his guilt ought to be “notable,” particularly given that that the Maye entry is classified as a “current event.”

Blogosphere support for Maye’s case has been nearly universal. There have, however, been a few dissenters. In the interest of open debate, I’ll let you read their reasons for believing the Maye verdict was just, and let you decide for yourselves.

I’ve heard via email that several prestigious, well-funded D.C. firms have begun to look into the possibility of donating pro-bono work to help with Maye’s appeal. One firm in particular has already been in touch with Maye’s attorney. Can’t reveal which firms just yet. If it pans out, I’ll fill you in.

Maye’s current attorney, public defender Bob Evans, tells me one reason Maye have come off as unsympathetic to the jury was that he has an odd facial mannerism. He apparently has a half smile — Evans says some might call it a smirk — when he speaks, even when he’s talking about pretty important things, like saving his own life. Any defense attorney will tell you that a defendant’s body language is immensely important, perhaps more important than what he actually says. Evans’ description of Maye’s quirky mannerism seems to fit with what Maye’s trial attorney told me early on — that two jurors told her after the trial they thought Maye was spoiled and disrespectful. And that that impression made them less likely to believe his testimony.

If you want to help spread the word about the case, I’ve created a clearinghouse page with all of my posts on Maye. It’s here.

I have lots more stuff on Cory Maye pending, but I’m not comfortable sharing it until I get the trial transcript, so I can verfiy a few things.

DA McDonald said he’d send it to me earlier this week, so I hope it’ll show up in the mail soon.

I’d also like to figure out some way to put the trial transcript online. As I’ve written all along, my goal here is to make as much information available as possible. Call it a quest for some open source justice.

The problem is, the transcript is 500+ pages long. That presents some logistical problems. I’m also not sure about the legality of putting it online. I can’t conceive of any reason why there should be a law against putting a trial transcript online. But it seems like just the kind of pettly little thing some legislator or bureaucrat might have decided ought to be illegal.

If you have any ideas on how to get it up, or on whether I’m allowed to put it up, drop me a line.

A few words about Officer Ron Jones.

Public defender Bob Evans — Maye’s attorney — tells me he’d known Jones for a long time, and that Jones was a good guy, and a well-meaning cop. I’ve seen no evidence to the contrary.

But I do think it’s possible to question the thoroughness and accuracy of Jones’ investigation without calling Jones’ character into question. Indeed, that’s what we’re doing. The problem here is the policy. There’s far too much discretion given to cops, courts, and prosecutors in drug cases, discretion that comes at the expense of the rights of the accused. Warrants are handed out on flimsy evidence. Volatile raids on nonviolent offenders are commonplace.

I think Jones erred in applying for a warrant on Maye’s home. And I think the judge erred in giving it to him. But search warrants are given for similarly lackluster cases every day, all across the country. I think the team Jones was a part of erred in breaking down Maye’s door. And I think Jones erred in storming Maye’s bedroom. I also regret that we can’t ask Jones how much corroborating investigation he did of Maye before applying for the warrant.

But no one is questioning Officer Jones’ honor, valor, or character. No one is suggesting he lied, or that he’s corrupt. My guess is that he was doing the job he was trained to do, and did nothing too far out of line with what cops routinely do while investigating drug cases.

The problem lies with what has now become routine. Jones’ job is to abide by the rules while looking for people who break the law. Our job is to make sure the laws are just, and that the rules sufficiently safeguard our civil liberties.

To that end, we need to start asking serious questions about the way we enforce drug laws in this country. Breaking down the doors of civilians with no criminal record in the middle of the night, essentially inviting confrontation, doesn’t seem like the best way to enforce the law. And of course, as a libertarian, I have a problem with the laws themselves. Seems to me there are better ways we could be using law enforcement resources than to set them out to hunt down nonviolent marijuana dealers.

In any case, I wanted to stress that we shouldn’t be thinking of Officer Jones as a villain. We should be thinking of him as a victim. And I guess my position would be that the fact that we have one dead victim as a result of the flawed raid on December 26, 2001 is more than enough.

(Disclaimer: I don’t yet have the trial transcript, so the following post is hearsay.)

One of the biggest mistakes Rhonda Cooper seems to have made in representing Maye was also one of her first moves. That was her change-of-venue motion. Here’s the problem: The raid and shooting took place in Jefferson Davis County, Mississippi. Jefferson Davis County is 57% black. The county Cooper initially approved of for the move was Lamar County, which is 85% white. Cooper apparently realized her mistake, and attempted to get the venue changed back to Jefferson Davis County. But the judge found that in moving for the original change of venue, Maye had waved his right to be tried in Jefferson Davis County. The compromise county — where the trial was actually held — was Marion County, which is 67% white.

Marion County is wealthier than Jefferson Davis County ($21,834 median income vs. $24,555), and much more conservative. Marion County went for Bush in 2000, and for Bush by 67% in 2004. Jefferson Davis County went for Gore in 2000, and for Kerry by 52% in 2004. Since both blacks and the poor are less likely to vote than whites and the wealthy, and Jefferson County is almost 60% black and 28% below the poverty line, it’s a safe bet that Jefferson Davis County is quite a bit more liberal than even its election returns bear out.

Given that it only takes one holdout to hang a jury, moving the trial out of Jefferson Davis County seems to me to have been a pretty devastating blow to Maye’s defense. It probably cost him several black jurors, and almost certaintly pulled a jury more conservative, and more sympathetic to cops than an to indigent kid with an illegitimate daughter. It was less likely, in other words, to be a real jury of his peers.

One thing Bob Evans mentioned to me yesterday is that the police officer who conducts the investigation leading up to a drug raid is never brought along on the raid. The reason is pretty simple: If that officer dies, there’s no way to go back and confirm the details of the investigation. Which of course is exactly what happend in the Maye case.

So I guess two questions arise from this. First, is Evans right? Is it true that the affiant is never supposed to accompany the SWAT team? And second, why was Officer Jones invited to join in on the raid?

On confidential informants:

have been a criminal lawyer in Canada for 7 years; my first year of
practice was involved with drug prosecutions, but I have been a defence lawyer since.

I wanted to make a couple points about the “informant”, and the idea that information died with the officer. I am increasingly convinced that many an “informant” referred to in an affidavit to obtain a warrant is entirely fictitious – who will ever be the wiser?

Nevertheless, it should be the protocol of any police force to document their informants; this doesn’t necessarily mean that their names are kept, but the handler-informant relationship is documented – why wasn’t that done here? Moreover, aren’t officers obliged to keep notes? Although the officer may have died, his activities in investigating and obtaining this warrant should have been noted in his notebook – this should include his observations of the traffic in and out of the residence. I have often found it fruitful to demand production of an officer’s notebook, and contrast the observations of foot traffic into a suspected drug den with what was said in the officer’s affidavit. This whole notion that critical information died with the officer makes no sense to me, assuming he was following standard police procedures with respect to notes and informants.

Another reason informants are usually documented is that they are *paid*. The only reason an informant would provide information without payment is if the cop has a squeeze on him – holding the prospect of arrest/prosecution over their head for their own criminal behaviour if they don’t flip on someone else.

As for the reliability of an informant, you touch on an important issue: shouldn’t the fact that little if anything was found at Maye’s residence impeach the reliability of the informant? You would think so. However, the converse is likely true. In my experience, *any* drugs found during the execution of a warrant bootstrap the reliability of the informant for that warrant. This is so even if they are looking for coke and find pot. In other words, if an informant is described as having provided reliable information that led to 3 previous warrants where arrests were made, and on the basis of that statement a warrant is issued to look for 2 kg of cocaine – but in the search the cops only find a half a marijuana joint, the next time the cops use that informant in a warrant application he will be described as having been proven reliable 4 times in the past, with 4 warrants issued on the basis of his information, leading to arrests in all 4 instances. It is a total sham.

Nearly every botched drug raid I’ve looked into was initiated based on information collected by a confidential informant.