Notes

The controversial scheme of “expedited removal,” which gives low-level immigration officials the authority to deport people with little to no judicial review, came roaring back into the public consciousness in the wake of President Trump’s executive order temporarily suspending entry into the United States of individuals from certain Muslim-majority countries. Hugely controversial since its inception, challenges to the expedited removal statutory scheme are blocked by a sixty-day time limit to challenges to any regulations or procedures implementing the expedited removal provisions. Rather than address the constitutionality of the expedited removal system itself, this Note focuses on that sixty-day time limit. Congress frequently uses statutorily imposed time limits to curb judicial review of agency rules. But the validity of a statutory time limit on judicial review of agency rules cannot be evaluated independently of the scope of the judicial review that it restricts. When, as is the case with expedited removal, a statutory time limit forecloses the constitutional challenges of people whose claims could not have been raised during the prescribed time limit, that time limit poses serious constitutional concerns. In light of these concerns, this Note argues that courts should not read the expedited removal time-limit to bar constitutional challenges to the expedited removal system that could not have been raised within the prescribed time limit. Unfortunately, despite the disturbing constitutional implications of the expedited removal time limit, there are considerable doctrinal and jurisdictional challenges to convincing a court to exercise jurisdiction over such a challenge. The Note concludes by discussing some of these potential barriers and ways in which the planned future expansion of expedited removal might help to overcome some of these roadblocks.

Under the doctrine of stare decisis, an important factor in determining whether to uphold or overrule a constitutional precedent is whether there are reliance interests in the rule it established. The Supreme Court’s analysis of reliance in this context has been brief and conclusory, leaving indeterminate the precise nature of the reliance interests at stake and causing uncertainty as to which forms of reliance the Court will deem cognizable in the future. Beginning with Planned Parenthood of Southeastern Pennsylvania v. Casey, the Court has signaled a willingness to give weight to societal reliance—reliance interests of society as a whole. Drawing on previous scholarship, I argue that societal reliance should be given no weight. To measure reliance for stare decisis, the Court should first identify the entities that have taken steps in reliance upon the challenged precedent and then weigh the costs of repudiation to those entities. When purported reliance interests cannot be attributed to particular entities but instead belong to society as a whole, no true reliance is at stake, and it should therefore count for nothing. Adopting this approach will provide clarity, consistency, and predictability to the Court’s determinations whether to uphold or overrule constitutional precedents.

When it wants to be, the federal government is good at counting things. It tracks average daily caffeine intake (300 milligrams per adult older than twenty-two in 2008), weekly instances of the flu (875 reported by public health laboratories in the week ending January 14, 2017), monthly production of hens’ eggs (8.97 billion in December 2016), and annual bicycle thefts (204,984 in 2015). But it currently cannot provide a comprehensive count of how often police officers use lethal force against its citizens. The deaths of Michael Brown, Walter Scott, Tamir Rice, Laquan McDonald—all unarmed, black, and shot by police officers—and far too many others have forced the issue of lethal police use of force into the national consciousness. But while many recent reports have focused on the unreliability of current data, there has been relatively little consideration of how, exactly, the federal government might go about getting it. This Note seeks to fill this gap by laying out the contours within which the federal government can act to incentivize states to collect more and better data. After highlighting the need for robust data collected at the federal level and describing various issues with the current state of federal collection of law enforcement data, this Note outlines the legal landscape legislators considering such a policy must grapple with: the combination of federalism concerns that are particularly acute in the sphere of state and local law enforcement, and the Supreme Court’s somewhat ambiguous conditional spending jurisprudence. Finally, it explains how the federal government might incentivize data collection without running afoul of the law, proposing a legislative scheme for federal collection of law enforcement data that combines national guidelines, conditional spending requirements, and competitive grant funding.

Normally we don’t think of administrative agencies as policing constitutional equality norms. There’s a good reason for this—courts are often thought of as the “ultimate expositor” of constitutional meaning, while agencies are thought of as undertaking not constitutional interpretation, but statutory implementation. But recently scholars have explored the ways in which constitutionalism enters agency decisionmaking—commonly referred to as “administrative constitutionalism.” Administrative constitutionalism theories loosen the assumption that courts have a monopoly on constitutional understanding, and instead recognize agencies as constitutional actors in their own right. This Note explores how agencies have engaged in administrative constitutionalism to police LGBT equality rights—often in ways that differ markedly from judicial applications of equal protection. It then offers a defense of these practices, arguing that agencies have acted in the face of widespread underenforcement of equality norms by the judiciary owing largely to institutional considerations that—justified or not—have no bearing on the meaning of equal protection.

Recognizing privacy harms, Congress has created a patchwork of statutes that provide private rights of action with statutory damages. These statutes allow individuals to vindicate procedural and substantive violations without having to show actual damages. At the same time, however, through the rise of the Internet, some companies interact with millions of users a day. If the claims are aggregated, these companies rightly fear that an inadvertent violation of one of these statutes will lead them into bankruptcy. And they rightly fear that users with weak claims will seek class certification to coerce them into settlements for the benefit of class counsel alone. However, refusing to certify these classes practically eliminates the substantive rights Congress attempted to protect.

By raising due process concerns at the certification stage, courts can signal to litigants that the liability faced will not be as astronomical as rote multiplication would imply. This could, somewhat, level the playing field in settlement negotiations while maintaining the deterrence effect Congress intended to create. And it allows large, Internet-based companies to decide to go to trial against weak claims without the fear of crippling liability.

Police interrogations in the United States are focused on one thing: getting a confession from the suspect. The Reid Technique, a guilt-presumptive nine-step method and the most common interrogation technique in the country, is integral to fulfilling this goal. With guidance from the Reid Technique, interrogators use coercion and deceit to extract confessions—regardless of the costs. When used with juvenile suspects, this method becomes all the more problematic. The coercion and deception inherent in the Reid Technique, coupled with the recognized vulnerabilities and susceptibilities of children as a group, has led to an unacceptably high rate of false confessions among juvenile suspects. And, when a juvenile falsely confesses as the result of coercive interrogation tactics, society ultimately suffers a net loss.

In the Eighth Amendment context, the Supreme Court has recognized that children are different from adults and must be treated differently in various areas of the criminal justice system. The Court’s recent Eighth Amendment logic must now be extended to the Fifth Amendment context to require that juveniles be treated differently in the interrogation room, as well. This Note suggests that the Reid Technique be categorically banned from juvenile interrogations through a constitutional ruling from the Court. Doing so would not foreclose juvenile interrogation; rather, a more cooperative and less coercive alternative could be utilized, such as the United Kingdom’s PEACE method. Nonetheless, only a categorical constitutional rule that prohibits the use of the Reid Technique in all juvenile interrogations will eliminate the heightened risk of juvenile false confessions and truly safeguard children’s Fifth Amendment rights.

The Insular Cases have, since 1901, granted the political branches significant flexibility in governing U.S. territories like American Samoa and Puerto Rico—flexibility enough, indeed, to ignore certain constitutional provisions that are not “fundamental” or which would be “impractical” to enforce in the territories. Long maligned as judicial ratification of empire, predicated on racist assumptions about territorial peoples and a constitutional theory alien to the United States, the Insular Cases had a curious renaissance in the late twentieth-century. As local territorial governments began to exercise greater self-rule, newly-enacted local laws in the territories began to pose constitutional issues, but courts generally acquiesced in these constitutional deviations. This Note argues that this accommodationist turn in Insular doctrine complicates the legacy of the cases—that their use to enable local peoples to govern themselves as they desire, and to protect their cultures, means the Insular doctrine is not merely defensible but perhaps even necessary, and finds support in arguments from political theory. Moreover, the Note contends, such constitutional accommodation has a long pedigree in the American constitutional system.

Under section 704 of the Administrative Procedure Act, courts can only review agency actions when they are “final.” In Bennett v. Spear, the Supreme Court put forth a seemingly simple two-part test for assessing final agency action. However, the second prong of that test—which requires agency actions to “create rights or obligations from which legal consequences flow” to be final—poses several problems. Most importantly, because it overlaps with the legal tests for whether a rule is a legislative rule or a nonbinding guidance document, it seems to effectively bar courts from reviewing nonlegislative rules before agencies have taken enforcement action. Because of this overlap, the Bennett test conflicts with—and thus undercuts—other principles of administrative law that seem to promote a pragmatic, flexible approach for courts to use in determining whether, when, and how to review agency rules. The result is a confusing standard of review that can prevent plaintiffs from challenging agency rules in court, especially when those plaintiffs are beneficiaries of regulation who will never be subject to enforcement action down the road. At the same time, however, courts should not be able to review every single agency rule before it is enforced. Agencies should be able to experiment, but should not be permitted to indefinitely shield potentially dangerous deregulatory programs from judicial review, as Bennett seems to allow. Accordingly, this Note argues that to be faithful to the Court’s commitment to “pragmatic” interpretation of the finality requirement, lower courts should follow a two-pronged approach to analyzing questions of final agency action. When courts can compel an agency to finalize its allegedly temporary action because of “unreasonable delay,” they should interpret Bennett’s second prong formally, holding that only truly legally binding action can be final. If this bars some plaintiffs from suing now, they will be able to challenge the rule later when the agency’s process is finished. But when courts cannot force agencies to finalize their rules, they should construe Bennett functionally, conceptualizing the agency’s allegedly temporary action under a “practically binding” standard. Under this framework, if the agency’s “temporary” action in practice consistently follows certain criteria, it should be viewed as binding and final under Bennett, and thus subject to judicial review, regardless of what the agency or its employees are legally required to do. This two-pronged approach would help to strike the right balance between the private party and the agency in a practical manner that depends upon the context.

Compliance and subversion are not mutually exclusive. Police officers can comply with Miranda requirements while subverting their purpose through creative workarounds; individuals facing deportation can comply with immigration procedures while clogging them up with frivolous claims; anti-death penalty activists can avoid violation of Eighth Amendment doctrine while undermining the executions it approves. These and other deliberate actions to obstruct judicial protections of rights and powers fall in a gray area between compliance and noncompliance. This Note articulates a transsubstantive legal theory underlying these actions, referred to as “compliant subversion”: attempts to make judicial protections of rights or powers unworkable while maintaining facial compliance with the law. After defining this concept and exploring its manifestations across different areas of law, the Note examines how courts constrain compliant subversion with reference to the subversive intent underlying it. Finally, the Note presents a normative critique of when judicial consideration of compliant subversion is inappropriate.

Legal injury without harm is a common phenomenon in the law. Historically, legal injury without harm was actionable for at least nominal damages, and sometimes other remedies. The same is true today of many “traditional” private rights, for which standing is uncontroversial. Novel statutory claims, on the other hand, routinely face justiciability challenges: Defendants assert that plaintiffs’ purely legal injuries are not injuries “in fact,” as required to establish an Article III case or controversy. “Injury in fact” emerges from the historical requirement of “special damages” to enforce public rights, adapted to a modern procedural world. The distinction between public and private rights is unstable, however, with the result that many novel statutory harms are treated as “public,” and thus subject to exacting justiciability analysis, when they could easily be treated as “private” rights for which legal injury without harm is sufficient for standing. Public and private act as rough proxies for “novel” and “traditional,” with the former subject to more judicial skepticism. Applying “injury in fact” this way is hard to defend as a constitutional necessity, but might make sense prudentially, depending on the novelty and legal source of value for the harm. Taxonomizing these aspects of “harm” suggests that, even with unfamiliar harms, judicial discretion over value lessens the need for exacting injury analysis.