Righting a wrong isn't being `soft' on crime
PEOPLE MAKE mistakes in life, and evaluating them long after is the pursuit of critics galore.
Currently the gubernatorial race features the Democratic candidate, Deval Patrick, who lent financial and other support to assist a convict who claims that he was wrongly convicted; Republican candidate Kerry Healey says that his assistance was a mistake, and makes him ``soft on crime." A highly partisan political campaign is not the best way for voters to evaluate the societal issues raised by this subject matter.
Part of the debate between the two candidates is focused on who would be better at dealing with crime. There are a lot of things that make someone an ``effective" crime fighter: intelligence, experience, strength to take unpopular positions, and ultimately, dedication to the pursuit of the truth.
When I was district attorney of Suffolk County, I remember when my office first confronted the possibility that someone had been wrongly convicted. Barry Sheck, a lawyer in New York who pursues wrongful convictions in conjunction with the Innocence Project, cold-called me one day -- we had never met. He told me that he represented a defendant who had been convicted of rape approximately five years before the date of his call.
Barry also told me that the Innocence Project carefully selected cases for review. This defendant's case had been selected because physical evidence was available to be tested with the use of DNA, a procedure that did not exist at the time of the defendant's trial. He then told me that they had obtained biological material of the defendant, had it tested, and that their test exonerated the defendant.
Even though the conviction of this defendant occurred before I became district attorney, I was still disturbed that someone might have been wrongly convicted. I told Barry that he had raised enough concerns that I would arrange for my office to have a second DNA test performed and that I would get back to him after we received the test results.
Approximately six weeks later, I called Barry to tell him what he already knew -- we had convicted the wrong person. I didn't resent Barry for his efforts, and I certainly didn't think he was soft on crime for raising the possibility that someone might have spent several years in state prison for something he didn't do.
In fact, I continue to admire the work that Barry and the Innocence Project did in that case because it helped my office reverse an unjust conviction and pursue the truth. In that regard, the Constitution is the higher ideal that was served. It served no purpose or ideal to stonewall Barry Sheck or ignore the evidence; that would not have made me tough. It would have made me stupid.
I had other wrongful conviction cases that my office had to contend with; in each case, we worked to squarely confront the truth. In at least one instance, the DA's office was the ``moving party" -- the initiator of proceedings that released a man wrongly convicted of murder.
I specifically remember that the seasoned homicide prosecutor who handled that case said he received more satisfaction from seeking the release of an innocent man than he did from hearing a jury say the word ``guilty" at the end of its deliberations. That prosecutor is as ``tough" on crime as anyone I know; he is also one of the most principled people I know.
I never thought that serving the ideals of the Constitution made you soft or tough on crime. In this gubernatorial race, it is important for the voters to recognize that the governor should aspire to serve the ideals of the Constitution because it is the Constitution that governs us all. Respecting the Constitution doesn't make you soft or tough -- it only makes you just and fair.
Ralph Martin II is a partner at Bingham McCutchen LLP. 
