Government used soccer tattoo, 'rock'n'roll salute' as evidence against Venezuelan deportee, lawyer asserts

According to his lawyer, a tattoo and a hand gesture are the sum of evidence against at least one Venezuelan man who was deported to the El Salvadoran gang prison among what the federal government has called "the worst of the worst."

Left: Real Madrid logo; right: artist conception.
Left: © Real Madrid CF, adapted in part by Coloring Pages for Toddlers;
here fair use. Right: Same crown with free clip art ball and Word lettering;
RJ Peltz-Steele CC0 with no claim to underlying works.

The face-off between the Trump administration and U.S. District Chief Judge James E. Boasberg over deportations has stoked strong suspicion that the enforcement action swept up men who pose no threat to the peace, have legitimate claims to refugee status, and now have been condemned wrongfully to imprisonment in El Salvador, a country foreign to them and their families.

The suspicion is not easily vindicated because the men are gone from the United States and inaccessible in El Salvador, and the evidence against them is secreted in the hands of the federal government. Yet one by one, stories are emerging that cast doubt on the official narrative. 

Immigration attorney Linette Tobin, a member of the D.C. Bar, has been making the media rounds to tell the story of one client, Jerce Reyes Barrios. Tobin told outlets, including NPR, that she has seen the evidence against Reyes Barrios (family photo via ABC News), and it comprises nothing other than a tattoo and social media images of a hand gesture, both with innocent explanations. 

Left: Horned hand. RJ Peltz-Steele with Google Gemini CC0
Right: ASL "I Love You." LiliCharlie via Wikimedia CC BY-SA 4.0

According to Tobin, Reyes Barrios is a 36-year-old professional soccer player and father of two who has a tattoo unrelated to any gang other than Spain's very legitimate and globally popular Real Madrid Club de Fútbol (RMCF). A variation on the RMCF logo, the tattoo pictures a crown atop a soccer ball and the word "Dios" (God), Tobin said.

The hand gesture pictured in social media, according to Tobin, is the "rock and roll salute." That gesture, known more widely as "the horned hand," became associated with heavy metal in the 1970s (more at Medium), then came into wider use in music culture. The gesture is sometimes interchanged, knowingly or unknowingly, with the ASL sign for "I love you" (literally, the letters I, L, and Y), which is similar but requires an extended thumb.

Tattoos imaged in 2024 Texas DPS presentation include these.
Public document; no indicated copyright notice.

Circulating online, a 2024 presentation by the Texas Department of Public Safety on the Venezuelan gang Tren de Aragua (more from NPR), to which the federal government alleges Reyes Barrios and other deportees belong, depicts tattoos borne by gang members. While some of the tattoos might be indicative of Tren de Aragua—images of trains, for example—most are not so specific, e.g., a rose, a clock, a star.  (More from NBC News.) Tren means "train," and Aragua is a Venezuelan state west of Caracas.

Also among the imaged tattoos are a crown, similar to the Real Madrid CF logo; the Nike "jumpman logo" with Michael Jordan's and LeBron James's number "23"; and the initials "HJ," said to abbreviate hijos (sons), under a crown ("king of kings"), meaning "sons of God." While gang members might bear such tattoos, they're hardly a way to determine gang affiliation.

In fact, of two of my own tattoos, one is a train—not because of criminal affiliation. Another is a variation on a cross that might suggest a football club or a historical war campaign, neither of which I'm championing. So I find this evidence against Reyes Barrios unsettling, especially insofar as it might be exemplary of the government's shallow scrutiny in countless other cases, too. 

I can only assume that when Tobin joined the D.C. Bar, she was admonished as strongly as I was never to lie. So I'm inclined to believe her, and thus to share Judge Boasberg's skepticism.

Update, Mar. 31, at 3 p.m.: Too late for Reyes Barrios and others, but I learned today that on Friday, the federal district court in Massachusetts granted a temporary restraining order against the removal of immigrants to unrelated third countries without due process, that is, notice and "meaningful" opportunity to raise safety concerns. The case is D.V.D. v. U.S. DHS (filed D. Mass. Mar. 25, 2025) (Court Listener).

In negligence claims over child welfare, bus fight, Mass. high court opines on qualified, sovereign immunity

Two immunity cases ended with different outcomes for public officials in the Massachusetts high court on two successive Fridays, and the cases illustrate different theories of immunity.

In a case decided on March 21, social workers with the Massachusetts Department of Children and Families (DCF) asserted qualified immunity in the death and severe injury of two children, each about two years old. The Supreme Judicial Court (SJC) considered the immunity analysis but decided ultimately that, immunity notwithstanding, the workers had not legally caused the harm the children suffered.

In a case decided March 14, the Massachusetts Bay Transportation Authority (MBTA) asserted sovereign immunity in the serious injury of a passenger who was beaten by a bus driver with known anger management issues. The SJC decided that the state agency was not entitled to sovereign immunity as codified by a provision protecting the state from liability for the acts of third parties.

Mass. DCF Worcester West Area Office
From Mass. DCF, purported © 2025
Commonwealth of Massachusetts, asserted fair use.

Qualified Immunity 

However much the state defendants prevailed in the first case, the court's recitation of the facts reveals a deeply disturbing record of irresponsibility on the part of DCF. A woman with four foster children was correctly suspected of having a live-in boyfriend with a record of an open armed robbery charge, three assault and battery charges, and multiple restraining orders. That would be prohibitive of foster placements were the facts confirmed, so DCF planned to monitor the home closely. For unknown reasons, officials dropped the ball, and inspections were too few and too infrequent.

The horrifying 2015 accident that took the life of one child and severely injured another occurred overnight when one of the children reached for "and adjusted the thermostat on an electric heater, which was on the wall above the crib, causing the children's room to overheat," the court wrote. Another child in the room died, and the child who manipulated the thermostat "was found to be in critical condition, suffering from respiratory failure, seizures, hyperthermia (a high temperature), and hypotension (low blood pressure)." The foster parent called 911, and the critically injured child was taken to the hospital. She survived but remains impaired, and her representatives were the plaintiffs in the instant case.

In a civil rights action under federal law, 42 U.S.C. § 1983, DCF officials claimed qualified immunity. The court coherently explained how the doctrine works generally and in this context:

Government officials are entitled to qualified immunity from § 1983 claims for damages if "their conduct does not violate clearly established statutory or constitutional rights of which a reasonable person would have known...." Littles v. Commissioner of Correction [Mass. 2005]. The determination of qualified immunity follows a two-part test:

"The first prong asks whether the facts alleged or shown by the plaintiff make out a violation of a constitutional right; the second prong asks whether that right was clearly established at the time of the defendant's alleged violation. [T]he second step, in turn, has two aspects. One aspect of the analysis focuses on the clarity of the law .... The other aspect focuses more concretely on the facts of the particular case and whether a reasonable defendant would have understood that his conduct violated the plaintiffs' constitutional rights" .... Penate v. Sullivan ... (1st Cir. 2023)....

Under the first prong, "'substantive due process' prevents the government from engaging in conduct that 'shocks the conscience'" .... United States v. Salerno [U.S. 1987]. In the foster care context, courts apply one of two standards to determine whether government conduct is conscience-shocking. The first ... is the "deliberate indifference" standard.... Under this standard, a plaintiff must show that a government actor "exhibited deliberate indifference to a known injury, a known risk, or a specific duty." ....

Alternatively, under the second standard, ... a plaintiff must show that a State actor's professional decision constitutes such a "substantial departure from accepted professional judgment, practice, or standards" that the decision was not actually based on such judgment.

The court did not resolve the difference between the two standards, however, because the case was resolved on a different basis. Notwithstanding qualified immunity, a plaintiff in a civil rights case, just like in a state tort case, must prove proximate, or legal causation, and the plaintiffs here could not.

DCF misconduct might have been a scientific cause of the accident. However, the reason DCF was investigating the foster care home was the suspected presence of man, a co-caretaker, with a problematic criminal record. Scientific causation might be proved if the plaintiff could prove that proper DCF investigation would have resulted in the removal of the man from the home. But that flub did not legally cause the accident, the court opined, because the accessibility of the thermostat to the crib and the child's consequent tampering with it had nothing to do with the presence of the man in the home.

The conclusion is sound, though it leaves one to wonder whether there yet has been any reckoning at DCF, or among public officials and legislators if under-resourcing is to blame.

It would not have made any difference here, but, collaterally, it's worth noting that the very existence of qualified immunity as a defense to civil rights actions has been an issue in play in recent years. I explained in 2 Tortz: A Study of American Tort Law (Lulu 2024 rev. ed.):

Of unlikely constitutional compulsion, qualified immunity has come into question in recent years, especially amid high-profile incidents of police violence. Some states and localities have adopted statutes and ordinances limiting or eliminating qualified immunity for police. At the federal level, U.S. Supreme Court Justices Clarence Thomas and Sonia Sotomayor both have criticized qualified immunity. Justice Thomas criticized qualified immunity as unsupported by the text of the Constitution or statute, and Justice Sotomayor criticized the doctrine for failing to punish official misconduct. See N.S. v. Kansas City (U.S. 2023) (Sotomayor, J., dissenting from denial of certiorari); Hoggard v. Rhodes (U.S. 2021) (Thomas, J., respecting denial of certiorari); James v. Bartelt (U.S. 2021) (Sotomayor, J., dissenting from denial of certiorari); Baxter v. Bracey (U.S. 2020) (Thomas, J., dissenting from denial of certiorari). Nevertheless, thus far, the Court has upheld the doctrine. Since the murder of George Floyd by a police officer in Minneapolis in 2020, U.S. Rep. Ayanna Pressley (D-Mass.) and U.S. Sen. Ed Markey (D-Mass.) have persistently but unsuccessfully championed bills to abolish qualified immunity in § 1983 actions.

The first case is Gotay v. Creen (Mass. Mar. 21, 2025) (FindLaw). Justice Serge Georges, Jr. authored the unanimous opinion of six justices.

MBTA bus
Mass. Office of Travel & Tourism via Flickr CC BY-ND 2.0

Sovereign Immunity

A different theory of immunity, state sovereign immunity, animated the case decided a week earlier.

At issue in this second case was the puzzling and unique section 10(j) of the Massachusetts Tort Claims Act (MTCA), which attracts more than its fair share of MTCA appellate litigation in the commonwealth. The case arose from an assault on a passenger by an MBTA bus driver with anger management issues.

Relying on facts as favorable to the plaintiff, the court retold the story of the part-time driver who "sometimes engaged in unsafe driving and, on occasion, interacted with the public and his supervisors in a hostile or insubordinate manner," yet after three years was promoted to full time. The court recounted subsequent altercations with a passenger described as "unruly" and then with a police officer in a disagreement over road obstruction.

The instant case arose when a passenger pursued the bus, rapping on doors, trying to get information about routes. Further recounting the plaintiff's facts, the court wrote:

Lost, cold, and frustrated at the prospect of being stranded, [plaintiff] first questioned why the bus driver had not stopped sooner. The driver responded by yelling at [plaintiff] and leaving his driver's seat to confront [plaintiff] at the door. The driver kicked snow from the bottom of the bus at [plaintiff]. [Plaintiff] uttered a profanity. This further triggered the bus driver's anger; as the driver subsequently described it, he just "lost it." Enraged, the driver lunged at [plaintiff], escalating the encounter. For his part, [plaintiff] retreated, but the driver gave chase. When the driver caught up, the driver commenced punching and kicking [plaintiff]. The beating was so severe that [plaintiff] suffered a traumatic brain injury that has left him "permanently and totally disabled from his usual employment."

The plaintiff sued the MBTA for negligence in hiring, promotion, retention, and supervision. The defendant asserted sovereign immunity as codified in the MTCA.

MTCA section 10(j) is Massachusetts's effort to find the fine line between a tort claim that properly blames public officials for tortious misbehavior and a failure-to-protect claim, when public officials are not responsible for the actions of private third parties. Finding this line is a well known problem in tort claims, federal and state. The Massachusetts test has its own peculiar language, which, the abundance of case law suggests, is not necessarily clarifying. The court here quoted its own earlier assessment that the provision "presents an interpretive quagmire."

Section 10(j) holds public officials immune from "any claim based on an act or failure to act to prevent or diminish the harmful consequences of a condition or situation, including the violent or tortious conduct of a third person, which is not originally caused by the public employer or any other person acting on behalf of the public employer."

The test is especially hairy in cases such as this one, when the alleged negligence is on the part of the state as employer, thus one step removed from the misconduct of a state employee. When does negligence on the part of the state employer constitute the "affirmative act" required to circumnavigate 10(j)?

Here, the court decided:

The claims at issue here are based on the MBTA's own failure to exercise reasonable care in its supervision of the bus driver; as we have explained, "where the supervisory officials allegedly had, or should have had, knowledge of a public employee's assaultive behavior, it is the supervisors' conduct, rather than the employee's intentional conduct, that is the true focus of the case." Dobos v. Driscoll ... [Mass. 1989] (affirming judgment against Commonwealth for negligent supervision and training of officer who assaulted civilian)[; s]ee Doe v. Blandford ... [Mass. 1988] (MTCA permitted claims regarding public employer's negligent conduct in hiring, retaining, and supervising guidance counselor who assaulted student independent of alleged vicarious liability for intentional tort of public employee)....

In sum, [section] 10 (j) does not provide immunity to a public employer for its misfeasance in placing an employee with known but untreated anger management issues that manifest in violent and hostile behaviors in a public-facing position. The record on summary judgment here would support a fact finder's reasonable conclusion that the MBTA's affirmative act—its own decision, through its public employees responsible for supervising the bus driver, to schedule the driver to operate the bus route in Lynn, [Mass.,] without training him to manage his anger—originally caused [plaintiff]'s harm.

The decision feels right as measured against the legislature's determination to distinguish truly third-party causes, that is, risks initiated outside the scope of state responsibility, from causes inextricably tied to state responsibility, such as a state employer's responsibility in direct negligence for its agent's misconduct. And I do think this concept of scope of responsibility, or common duty in the parlance of multiple liabilities, can be used to delineate a workable understanding of "not originally caused."

At the same time, I am not persuaded by the court's reasoning that 10(j) jurisprudence has yet drawn a line much more clear than "I know it when I see it."

The second case is Theisz v. MBTA (Mass. Mar. 14, 2025) (Justia). New Orleans-born Justice Dalila Argaez Wendlandt authored the unanimous opinion of four justices, affirming the Appeals Court.

Court's pass on Wynn bid to revisit 'actual malice' makes sense, but standard still fuels misinformation

Wynn operates the Encore Casino in Everett, Mass.,
since a dust-up with authorities over ownership.
Holiday Point via Flickr CC BY 2.0

The U.S. Supreme Court declined to hear casino mogul Steve Wynn's bid to overturn the New York Times v. Sullivan "actual malice" standard, despite the known appetite of some justices to revisit the 1964 precedent.

The outcome is not a surprise and probably for the best, because Wynn had lousy facts to support his argument. Unfortunately, Sullivan's complicity in our present misinformation crisis remains real and ever more problematic. Cases such as Wynn's undermine legitimate recognition of the dysfunction Sullivan has wrought.

I've written and spoken before, and will not here belabor, my ardent opposition to the Sullivan standard, which requires public figures to demonstrate, even prove—usually upon filing a complaint, with no access to evidence in the possession of the defense—that the defendant subjectively knew of the falsity of the publication, or at least that there's a smoking gun disproving the defendant's denial.

Sullivan came about with good intentions. In a nutshell, the Supreme Court was determined to enforce Brown v. Board (U.S. 1954) and bring about the civil rights order required by the Reconstruction Amendments, specifically in Sullivan by heading off southern officials' weaponization of tort law. But the wide berth that the Court cut for freedom of speech vis-à-vis the competing values of personal reputation and human dignity was cemented in constitutional law, and now we face the consequences of an irremediable imbalance.

Steve Wynn
Sarah Gerke via Flickr CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

In Wynn's case, defendant Associated Press surfaced two complaints of sexual assault filed with police against Wynn in the 1970s. The reporting occurred in the context of contemporary allegations of a pattern of misconduct, which Wynn roundly denies. The AP report probably falls within the common law "fair report" privilege, which shields from liability the re-publisher of allegations in official documents. The advanced age of the reports raises a thin question on the "fair" prong of the analysis, and the degree to which the privilege has been constitutionalized is debatable. But those issues are neither here nor there, for the courts in the Nevada lawsuit never got that far.

Wynn's suit was dismissed under the Nevada anti-SLAPP law because, the Nevada Supreme Court affirmed, Wynn failed to demonstrate sufficient proof of actual malice in his pleading. Wynn offered little more in the way of allegation than that the police complaints were "implausible," so should have been disbelieved—hardly that they were contradicted by evidence in the defendant's possession. There was an allegation that the AP reporter regarded a complainant against Wynn as "'crazy'"—but, again, that hardly equates to "lying." Anyway, were the fair report privilege eventually implicated, the salient fact would be the truthful rendition of the reports, not the truth of their underlying contents.

Besides bemoaning Sullivan, I have lamented at length on the ill wisdom of anti-SLAPP laws, such as they have been adopted throughout the United States, another song of woe I won't here reiterate. I also have acknowledged consistently that anti-SLAPP works well when it works well (and could work better). Wynn's case proves both points. He didn't get his day in court, nor hardly a hearing. But I suspect his ability to prosecute all the way to Washington has more to do with his wealth than with the merits of his claim.

Wynn's appeal strategy was principally to attack Sullivan head on. Wynn knows, or his lawyers know, that near immunity for false, even ludicrous, allegations against public figures has everything to do with the vigor of misinformation circulating in the American marketplace of ideas. But Wynn was ill able to illustrate an injustice against a meritorious cause, the kind of fertile soil one needs to nurture willingness to overturn a 60-year-old, civil rights-era precedent.

For some further context of judicial dissatisfaction with Sullivan, here's an excerpt from my 2 Tortz: A Study of American Tort Law (Lulu 2024 rev. ed.), on "Reconsidering Sullivan."

Doubts about sacrosanct Sullivan were once uttered at one’s own risk in legal academic circles. But U.S. Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas legitimized debate with a concurrence in denial of certiorari in McKee v. Cosby (U.S. 2019). An actress, McKee, in 2014, publicly accused actor-comedian Bill Cosby of rape 40 years earlier. A letter from Cosby’s attorney to mass media attacked McKee’s credibility, but did not specifically deny the asserted facts of the encounter. McKee alleged defamation, and the courts concluded that the letter stated only unverifiable opinion.

Media advocates certainly hoped that Thomas’s commentary was a one-off. It was not. Two years later, Justices Thomas and Neil Gorsuch dissented from denial of certiorari in Berisha v. Lawson (U.S. 2021).... Earlier the same year, highly regarded U.S. Circuit Judge Laurence Silberman had joined Thomas’s call, dissenting in Tah v. Global Witness Publishing (D.C. Cir. 2021) (involving accusation of bribery against international human rights organization). A likeminded concurrence by Florida appellate Judge Bradford L. Thomas followed in Mastandrea v. Snow (Fla. Dist. Ct. App. 2022) (involving accusation city official was “on the take” in development matter). And that same year, the Journal of Free Speech Law published Professor David McGowan’s A Bipartisan Case Against New York Times v. Sullivan (2022). Justice Thomas reiterated his “view that we should reconsider the actual-malice standard,” Blankenship v. NBCUniversal, LLC (U.S. 2023) (Thomas, J., concurring in denial of certiorari), thrice more in 2022 and 2023.

Mass-media misinformation during the Donald J. Trump Presidency, contributing to the January 6, 2021, attack on the U.S. Capitol, shook the confidence in Sullivan even of some devoted liberal stalwarts in the academy. On the one hand, President Trump had used defamation, among other legal tools, to attack critics. He was accused of weaponizing transaction costs, but Sullivan remained an important substantive bulwark. On the other hand, Trump evaded “Me Too” accountability not only with denials, like Cosby, but with ruthless accusations of lying, which loyal political supporters embraced and amplified.

The busy federal court for the Southern District of New York has seen its share of politically charged defamation litigation. That’s where writer E. Jeanne Carroll, availing of a New York look-back statute, brought two suits against President Trump, alleging sexual battery in the 1990s and defamation for calling her claims “a complete con job,” “a hoax” and “a lie.” Juries awarded Carroll in excess of $80 million for sexual battery and defamation, despite the actual malice standard. Trump appealed. Do the verdicts show that Sullivan works? In 2022, Sarah Palin lost a defamation claim in S.D.N.Y. against The New York Times over a staff editorial that blamed her in part for the mass shooting that wounded U.S. Rep. Gabby Giffords. Exceptionally against the usual no-actual-malice motion to dismiss, Palin had won discovery. And discovery revealed some ethically problematic sloppiness behind the scenes at the Times. Nevertheless, bad journalism is not actual malice, and the court and jury so concluded. Palin’s appeal from the Second Circuit was seen widely as a contender to draw Sullivan reconsideration, but the Court passed.

Whether a function of social media, declining civility, or partisan extremism, data show that defamation litigation is up. And courts are not as quick as they once were to dismiss for a plaintiff’s inability to prove actual malice. Still, the public-plaintiff win remains a rarity, especially for the public official or public figure who doesn’t have the resources to go to the mat.

The case is Wynn v. Associated Press, No. 24-829 (U.S. Mar. 24, 2025).

Book details knotty business of higher ed counsel

By attorney Louis H. Guard and academic Joyce P. Jacobsen, All the Campus Lawyers (2024) is a compelling recent read for anyone interested in the law of higher education—whether as a counselor, as a client, or as a victim of higher ed machinations. I've been all three.

Guard and Jacobsen both are affiliated with Hobart and William Smith Colleges—a beautiful double campus I visited just last summer, perched atop Seneca Lake in Geneva, New York, in the Finger Lakes region. Guard is a general counsel there, and Jacobsen a past president and economics professor.

All the Campus Lawyers thoroughly covers the many facets of higher ed practice nowadays, from civil rights and labor, to intellectual property, contracting, and cybersecurity. It is a lot to see it all in one place. At an overarching level of abstraction, the book—which is subtitled, "Litigation, Regulation, and the New Era of Higher Education"—ponders how and why law has become pervasive, and sometimes paralyzing, of higher ed. 

To my reading, Guard and Jacobsen are careful to avoid a normative agenda, and rather strive to be descriptive, instructive, and sometimes even inspiring. But I came away with an uneasy feeling in the belly that law, at least in practice, has a stranglehold on the free-wheeling nature of academic inquiry that classical-liberal society associates with the "quintessential marketplace of ideas." 

If higher ed is just a business—and maybe it always was—law, from the perspective of university counsel, seems to be part of the problem: supporting the business framing with defensive practice and risk aversion, and prizing the institution over the people who constitute it and whom it serves. No doubt my perception is colored by experience.

I stop by the Geneva, N.Y., Welcome Center in July 2024.
RJ Peltz-Steele CC BY-NC-SA 4.0

Another impression I had of the book was that it is siloed, tending to view the mission creep of law in the higher ed sector to the exclusion of the same phenomenon across American life. Indeed, what business, what person does not need a lawyer to navigate the world today, even if ordinary people have to manage without, usually to their detriment. I'm not sure the problem of law in higher ed can be examined exclusively of "the legalization of American society" (meaning ubiquity of law, not blessing of lawfulness).

Furthermore, there is, to my mind and at one level, a rather simple explanation for law's infiltration of higher ed. With a hat tip to Lincoln Steffens and Clark Mollenhoff: Follow the money. The relevant question might not be why law has become pervasive in higher ed, but why higher ed has become big business rather than collective good or philanthropy. Guard and Jacobsen are too ready to take that twist of mission for granted.

Despite my nitpicks, Campus Lawyers is a worthwhile read for a fuller understanding of the relationship between law and higher ed, and especially for insight into the modus operandi of university counsel.

Here is the publisher's description:

Not so long ago, colleges and universities had little interaction with the law. In the 1970s, only a few well-heeled universities even employed in-house legal counsel. But now we live in the age of tenure-denial lawsuits, free speech battles, and campus sexual assault investigations. Even athletics rules violations have become a serious legal matter. The pressures of regulation, litigation, and legislation, Louis Guard and Joyce Jacobsen write, have fostered a new era in higher education, and institutions must know how to respond.

For many higher education observers and participants, including most administrators and faculty, the maze of legal mandates and potential risks can seem bewildering. Guard, a general counsel with years of higher education law experience, and Jacobsen, a former college president, map this unfamiliar terrain. All the Campus Lawyers provides a vital, up-to-date assessment of the impact of legal concerns on higher education and helps readers make sense of the most pressing trends and issues, including civil rights; free speech and expression; student life and wellness; admissions, advancement, and community relations; governance and oversight; the higher education business model; and on-campus crises, from cyberattacks to pandemics.

As well as informing about the latest legal and regulatory developments affecting higher education, Guard and Jacobsen offer practical guidance to those in positions of campus authority. There has never been a more crucial time for college and university boards, presidents, inside and outside counsel, and other higher education leaders to know the law and prepare for legal challenges.

Of course, it remains to be seen what remains of higher ed after the Trump Administration. Guard and Jacobsen might have accomplished the equivalent of a book about the flu on the eve of the pandemic, in which case, we'll need a revised edition sooner rather than later.

Amos, King: love one another; defend the oppressed; plead the cause of the innocent, the powerless

David Erickson CC BY 2.0 via Wikimedia Commons

On this Martin Luther King, Jr. weekend, I was blessed with the opportunity to stand in the pulpit of the historic North Scituate Baptist Church, Rhode Island, affording a rest for beloved Pastor Kim Nelson there.

I spoke to the Book of Amos, chapter 5, verses 21 to 24 (NIV), often cited by Dr. King. In the "I Have a Dream" speech on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in August 1963 (photo), Dr. King quoted Amos 5:24: “[L]et judgment run down as waters, and righteousness as a mighty stream" (KJV).

In the history of the church, Amos at times has been controversial for its ominous depiction of God. But Amos contains a call for social justice that is as important and relevant today as it was in America during the Civil Rights Movement and in Israel in the 8th century B.C.

My wife and I are deeply grateful to the people at North Scituate for their warm hospitality.

Florida A&M moves to fire Latina law prof who spoke on public concern; Hispanic law students resist

You may review and sign on to a letter of the FAMU Hispanic American Law Student Association opposing Reyes's termination here. 

Prof. Maritza Reyes

My colleague Professor Maritza Reyes, who is tenured at the Florida A&M (FAMU) College of Law, is fighting alongside students and other allies to save her job and to preserve academic freedom.

Reyes has been notified of the school's intent to dismiss her for doing her job in faculty governance. Reyes commented, professionally and appropriately, in a community email discussion of the abrupt, contentious, and institutionally embarrassing resignation of the law dean at FAMU in February.

FAMU apparently did not like what Reyes had to say. In a plain violation of academic freedom, the school proferred the email discussion as the reason to terminate a tenured professor.

I have written many times, since 2011, about the failure of universities to recognize academic freedom in spaces "penumbral" to published research and classroom teaching, namely faculty governance. In the same vein, Professor Keith Whittington wrote recently about the importance of protecting "extramural" academic speech.

Reyes is an accomplished and highly respected law teacher—thus, just the sort who attract condemnation in the academic culture—who is treasured by generations of students and has especially made a difference for persons of color in law schools and legal practice. She is FAMU's first and only tenured Latina law professor. In 2022, she founded the Graciela Olivárez Latinas in the Legal Academy ("GO LILA") Workshop, which she discussed in 2023 for AALS Women in Legal Education.

Students and alumni are leading the resistance to Reyes's termination. Please review and consider signing on to the following letter.  You can share the letter further with this link: https://forms.gle/VUnYPKiMwyWtMDJx8, or via The Savory Tort.

(This post revised and updated on Mar. 19, at 5:40 p.m.)

---

Dear President Larry Robinson and Provost Allyson Watson:

We, the undersigned members of the Florida Agriculture and Mechanical University (FAMU) Hispanic American Law Student Association (HALSA), joined by fellow students, alumni, allies, and friends, respectfully request that you rescind your intent to dismiss College of Law Professor Maritza Reyes (Professor Reyes) from her tenured position. For the past fifteen (15) years, Professor Reyes has been a caring professor and has made excellent contributions to the school, especially its students. Professor Reyes has also served as HALSA's faculty advisor for many years.

Professor Reyes is an accomplished teacher, scholar, and member of the legal academy and community. She began her employment in the FAMU College of Law as a tenure-track assistant professor of law in 2009, earned tenure in 2015, and is now a tenured, full professor of law (the highest faculty rank). FAMU has evaluated Professor Reyes's record during many formal evaluative processes, including applications for promotion to associate professor, for tenure, and promotion to full professor; annual reviews; and, most recently, post-tenure review. Professor Reyes has demonstrated consistent excellence and productivity in scholarship, teaching, and service. She has too many accomplishments to list here, including being recognized in the U.S. Congressional Record for her service to our community. You are well-aware of her many accomplishments including through all of the above listed evaluations.

We were heartbroken and outraged to learn that Provost Allyson Watson (Provost Watson), by letter dated February 16, 2024 (the "Notice"), informed Professor Reyes of the University's intent to dismiss her from her tenured position. According to FAMU Regulation 10.120(2)(c), the "Contents of Notice" must include the following information: "A list of documents or written explanation on which the charges are based; and a statement that documents shall be available to the employee upon request." The documents Professor Reyes received consisted of emails that were sent to the entire College of Law Community during the period of February 1, 2024 to February 5, 2024. The entire College of Law Community (faculty, staff, and students) received the emails after then College of Law Dean Deidré Keller (Dean Keller) opened this email forum on February 1, 2024 to provide notice of her resignation effective immediately. Several professors, including Professor Reyes, and three students participated in these communications and sent emails to the entire College of Law Community. The use of email forums/listservs to the entire College of Law Community was not prohibited. Professor Reyes's emails were informative, professional, and timely. They helped bring transparency and accountability regarding Dean Keller's resignation, a matter of institutional and public importance. The Tallahassee Democrat initially reported about Dean Keller's resignation on February 2, 2024. Subsequently, Dean Keller provided her letter of resignation to this newspaper, which published it in a second article on February 6, 2024. These materials were readily available online via the newspaper's website.

In response to Professor Reyes's contributions via emails about Dean Keller's resignation, Provost Watson issued a Notice of intent to dismiss Professor Reyes from her tenured position. It seems to us that Provost Watson targeted Professor Reyes for the content of her speech and sought to silence her voice and future contributions in the FAMU College of Law. In a matter of days, Provost Watson charged Professor Reyes for dismissal without allowing her an opportunity to respond to a formal complaint, go through an investigation, receive meaningful due process, and get a report. To us as law students, the way Provost Watson has handled this situation screams of injustice and lack of due process.

Many students and alumni describe Professor Reyes as an exceptional educator who made a lasting and meaningful impact on their law school experiences and legal careers. She always set high standards and would provide the guidance and skills necessary to reach them. She also inspired students to achieve their individual levels of excellence. Some of us made it through difficult situations during law school thanks to her unwavering support. Professor Reyes has also been an advocate for student organizations. Therefore, if your intent to dismiss Professor Reyes comes to pass, you will harm past, current, and future FAMU College of Law students by taking away an excellent professor who has been our teacher, mentor, advocate, ally, supporter, and friend. You will also harm the law school, including with negative publicity. You have already disrupted the high-caliber teaching law students expected to receive when they registered for Professor Reyes's courses. You abruptly replaced her with less-credentialed and less-experienced instructors who had never taught in a law school before. Many of us will be further traumatized by Professor Reyes's dismissal. We cannot remain silent in the face of such injustice.

There are currently twenty (20) tenured professors (associate and full) in the College of Law. Professor Reyes was the first and thus far only Hispanic professor hired in the tenure track and subsequently tenured in the FAMU College of Law. She has served as HALSA's dedicated, supportive, and highly competent faculty advisor. According to the FAMU College of Law American Bar Association 2023 Standard 509 Required Disclosures, Hispanic students make up 25% of the total law student body. It is important that Hispanic students be appropriately represented in the law school. While this letter is spearheaded by HALSA's Board, we are being supported in our efforts by students and alumni of diverse backgrounds who appreciate and respect Professor Reyes's teaching, mentoring, and support.

There is a strong sense among the student body that an injustice is happening in view of all of us. On February 27, 2024, students met with FAMU College of Law Interim Dean Cecil Howard and protested the intended dismissal of Professor Reyes. Interim Dean Howard responded that the decision was made by Tallahassee Administrators to whom students should voice their protests. This is what we are doing via this open letter. We have distributed this letter widely for signatures by students, alumni, allies, friends, and supporters of justice everywhere. Please hear us when we tell you that the intended dismissal of Professor Reyes is a grave injustice. You have the power to stop this intended wrong. Please do so!

We respectfully demand that you keep Professor Maritza Reyes in the tenured faculty position she earned. She has done nothing warranting dismissal. We also demand that you grant Professor Reyes's request for a public meeting regarding her intended dismissal.

[Sign.]

NYPD seizes adorable dog, person too, in retaliation for video-recording in public, attorney-plaintiff alleges

A New York legal aid attorney was arrested, along with her dog, when she started video-recording police, and then she sued for civil rights violation.

Harvey (Compl. ¶ 36)

The NYPD messed with the wrong person. As the complaint tells it, Molly Griffard, an attorney with the Cop Accountability Project of the Legal Aid Society (Equal Justice Works), was walking her dog, Harvey, in the Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood of Brooklyn when "she saw police officers remove a young man from a bodega, and drag him around the corner where they lined him up with other young men against a wall."

Griffard began video-recording with her phone. After she crossed the street at an officer's instruction, she started writing down NYPD car plate numbers. An officer refused to give her his business card upon her request, the complaint alleges. Instead, the officer handcuffed Griffard and arrested her, taking her and Harvey into police custody. She was held at the 79th precinct for eight hours, while Harvey, a nine-year-old Yorkie, was held in the kennel.

Admittedly, what caught my attention in the case was not so much the facts, head-shaking inducing as they are, but the story of Harvey. Journalist Frank G. Runyeon, reporting for Law360, and NBC News 4 New York, also were enchanted.

Griffard and her attorney, David B. Rankin, of Beldock Levine & Hoffman LLP, must have been conscious of Harvey's intoxicating adorableness, too, because they included gratuitous glamor shots in the complaint—as I've reproduced here. 

Harvey (Compl. ¶ 20)

At its fringe, the case might be said to implicate animal rights, or at least the rights of owners of domesticated animals. Courts in the United States and elsewhere in the world are coming around to the idea that domesticated animals such as cats and dogs have a value exceeding their market worth as personal property, especially in the area of tort damages when the animals come to harm.

Griffard make no such claim, though, rather using Harvey as evidence to demonstrate her emotional distress at being separated from him and being given no information about his whereabouts while they were held—and, between the lines, to tug at the heartstrings and demonstrate the utter absurdity of her arrest and detainment.

One paragraph of the complaint does allege that seven-pound "Harvey was traumatized by the incident and now takes medication to treat his anxiety disorder." And the count of unreasonable seizure points out that "Harvey missed his dinner."

The case is Griffard v. City of New York, No. 512993/2023 (Sup. Ct. Kings County filed May 2, 2023).

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.

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.

While Pope apologizes in Canada, U.S. reckons with legacy of federal Indian boarding schools

Children at Rehoboth Mission School, New Mexico
(from DOI report p. 39, credited: Hartog, C. (1910).
Rehoboth School [Photograph]. Indian mission sketches:
Descriptions and views of Navajo life, the Rehoboth Mission School
and the Stations Tohatchi and Zuni, 22. Gallup, N.M.: The Author.
Hathi Trust Digital Library)

The Pope's visit to Canada to ask forgiveness for the role of the Church has brought the tragedy of Indian boarding schools to light, but coverage has been thin on the U.S. legacy.

In the United States, Indian boarding schools were government policy and attempted a cultural genocide no less shamefully than the Church effort in Canada. This U.S. angle on the story hasn't been mentioned in my evening news the last few nights. But it was explicated by an Interior Department (DOI) report in May just this year and is being addressed in some media outlets (e.g., NPR).

The DOI report is just volume 1 in the ongoing investigation of the Federal Boarding School Initiative, "a comprehensive review of the troubled legacy of federal boarding school policies," launched in June 2021. A transmittal letter at the front of the report explained:

This report shows for the first time that between 1819 and 1969, the United States operated or supported 408 boarding schools across 37 states (or then-territories), including 21 schools in Alaska and 7 schools in Hawaii. This report identifies each of those schools by name and location, some of which operated across multiple sites.

This report confirms that the United States directly targeted American Indian, Alaska Native, and Native Hawaiian children in the pursuit of a policy of cultural assimilation that coincided with Indian territorial dispossession. It identifies the Federal Indian boarding schools that were used as a means for these ends, along with at least 53 burial sites for children across this system-with more site discoveries and data expected as we continue our research.

When I say "attempted cultural genocide," or "ethnocide," this isn't just me throwing around woke words. The DOI report detailed official policy dating to President Washington to "subdue[] the Indians" by assimilation, "helping the whites acquire desirable land." An 1803 memo by President Jefferson outlined a plan to relocate native Americans and push them into farming with the express aim that they would thereby fall into debt and have to cede their land. (And, I note, today still our corporate overlords are pushing all of us into asset ownership—homes, cars, cell phones—on the debt model rather than the capital model. You don't have to be native American for the strategy to make the rich richer and you poorer.)

Hundreds of thousands of children were taken from their families and sent to boarding schools often distant from their home communities. That generations of people were so traumatized explains a lot about the fragile social and economic state of reservation communities today.

In military school fashion, the children's every 24 hours in the boarding schools were regimented. Using quotes from contemporary accounts (notes and sources omitted here), the report recounted:

"The children are improved rather in their habits than in what they learn from books." For example, to teach them "obedience and cleanliness, and give[] them a better carriage," Department records detail examples of organizing Indian male children "into companies as soldiers, and the best material selected for sergeants and corporals." "They have been uniformed and drilled in many of the movements of army tactics."

The report explained the means and ends of the boarding schools with revealing perspective:

Systematic identity-alteration methodologies employed by Federal Indian boarding schools included renaming Indian children from Indian names to different English names; cutting the hair of Indian children; requiring the use of military or other standard uniforms as clothes; and discouraging or forbidding ... Indian languages, ... cultural practices, and ... religions. "When first brought in they are a hard-looking set. Their long tangled hair is shorn close, and then they are stripped of their Indian garb thoroughly washed, and clad, in civilized clothing. The metamorphosis is wonderful, and the little savage seems quite proud of his appearance."

"No Indian is spoken[:]" "There is not an Indian pupil whose tuition and maintenance is paid for by the United States Government who is permitted to study any other language than our own vernacular—the language of the greatest, most powerful, and enterprising nationalities beneath the sun."

Then there was enforcement for violating the rules, including the prohibitions on language and religious practice. Whipping was the preferred punishment for attempted runaways.

Indian boarding school rules were often enforced through punishment, including corporal punishment, such as solitary confinement, "flogging, withholding food, ... whipping[,]" and "slapping, or cuffing." At times, rule enforcement was a group experience: "for the first offense, unless a serious one, a reprimand before the school is far better than a dozen whippings, because one can teach the whole school that the offender has done something that is wrong, and they all know it and will remember it, while it is humiliating to the offender and answers better than whipping."

Conditions for even compliant children were less than optimal. Citing prior DOI investigations in 1928 and 1969, the 2022 report stated:

The Department has acknowledged "frankly and unequivocally that the provisions for the care of the Indian children in boarding schools are grossly inadequate." Rampant physical, sexual, and emotional abuse; disease; malnourishment; overcrowding; and lack of health care in Indian boarding schools are well-documented.

Moreover, the children's labor was used to operate the schools, for example, the children's clothes were made by female students as part of their vocational training.

Lest the severity of these conditions be confused with mere norms of less gentle times, we might consider that schools, even in the 19th century, rarely had their own graveyards. DOI found 53 burial sites at Indian boarding schools, at least six unmarked.

U.S. Indian boarding schools have been examined thoughtfully in media outlets: The Atlantic, National Geographic (limited free), NPR, N.Y. Times, and Time (paywall).

There are books, too, of course: Ward Churchill's well regarded Kill the Indian, Save the Man (2004); the first-person Pipestone (2010) by Adam Fortunate Eagle; and the documentary compilation Boarding School Seasons (2000) by Brenda J. Child.

There are online resource collections at The National Native American Boarding School Healing Coalition and the Library of Congress.

My favorite media treatment in this area is a 2015 Radiolab segment, rebroadcast in 2018, "Ghosts of Football Past." Follow it up with a compelling reflection by Professor Justin De Leon.

Judge excoriates city in public records row

Worcester, Mass., City Hall
(Mass. Office of Travel & Tourism CC BY-ND 2.0 via Flickr)

In a remarkable opinion in January 2022, the Massachusetts Superior Court excoriated the city of Worcester, Massachusetts, for failure to comply with a newspaper's public records request investigating police misconduct.

In 2018, GateHouse Media, owner of the Worcester Telegram & Gazette and a subsidiary of Gannett, filed a Massachusetts freedom of information act (FOIA) request for files related to investigations of Worcester police in civil rights matters. The Telegram's interest was spurred by Worcester attorney Hector E. Pineiro, who was upset by police interaction with his son.

The city resisted production of the records because, it argued, they were part of ongoing litigation involving police officers. The Massachusetts FOIA has no litigation exemption per se, but officials shield some records under the deliberative process exemption, relating to policy positions still in development. The city grossly over-relied on that strategy, the court concluded in June 2021 after a rare FOIA trial.

GateHouse Media persisted with its case even after shaking lose the records, demanding that the city be permanently enjoined from similar baseless argument in the future and be charged with punitive damages. In January, the Superior Court, per Justice Janet Kenton-Walker, substantially sided with GateHouse, finding that the city had acted in bad faith and needlessly protracted the litigation and costs for years.

Not only did the city rely erroneously on the text of statute, Justice Kenton-Walker opined, it "cherry-picked certain language from ... cases, taking it out of context." And the city had an ugly history with the same issue. The court explained:

[T]he court cannot ignore that [the city] originally took [its] position in spite of the fact that the city was one of the parties to, and thus aware of, Worcester Telegram & Gazette Corp. v. Chief of Police of Worcester (Mass. App. Ct. 2003). In that case, the Appeals Court held that materials in a "Worcester police department internal affairs file ... compiled during an investigation of a citizen complaint," were public records. That court stated explicitly that "[i]t would be odd, indeed, to shield from the light of public scrutiny as 'personnel [file] or information' the workings and determinations of a process whose quintessential purpose is to inspire public confidence" (emphasis added).

The court declined to award an injunction, reasoning that the threat of litigation should provide sufficient deterrence. "Simply put, the court expects the city to follow the law now and in the future," the judge wrote.

But the court did order the city to pay $5,000 in "punitive damages." That's at the top of a range allowed by state law when public officials act in bad faith. The money goes to the state Public Records Assistance Fund, rather than to the plaintiff.

According to the Telegram in February, Pineiro said that "he believes the city fought 'tooth and nail' to avoid producing the records because it did not want the public to see a police internal disciplinary process he labeled a 'sham.'"

The city wrote in a statement, the Telegram reported, that it would "move on" and not appeal.

The case is GateHouse Media, LLC v. City of Worcester, No. 1885CV1526A (Mass. Super. Ct. Jan. 26, 2022).