Due Process

Recently, I joined journalist, Ashleigh Banfield, as a guest commentator on TruTV. The case broadcast live from Sarasota, Fl. was as reprehensible a crime as I ever known. Michael King was accused of the heinous, daylight kidnapping of a 21 year old mother of two. She was taken from her home and her two babies left behind. From all available information, it was a random act; King didn’t know her. It will probably never be known how she came to be targeted.

He took her at gunpoint to his own home, where she was brutalized and repeated violated. From there, bound with duct tape, he drove her to his cousin’s home to obtain a shovel, rope and gasoline. She attempted to escape from the car while King’s cousin did nothing to intercede. From there he drove her around, where several motorists observed her, screaming, attempting to gain their attention. Several called 911 to report what they had seen. One woman went so far as to follow King’s car, reporting to 911 his location, description and movement. At one point the victim was able to obtain King’s cell phone and alertly dialed 911 while carrying on a conversation with her captor, surreptitiously attempting to alert the operator to her peril, while not raising his suspicion. That call lasted 9 minutes and was played to the jury. It was a desperate, heart-wrenching plea for mercy that went unheeded.

Her dad was a long-standing veteran of the Sarasota Sheriff’s office,  recipients of some of the 911 calls. Tragically, the dispatcher never provided the details to officers in the field. Eventually, King took her to a desolate place, stripped her and placed the muzzle of the gun to her forehead and killed her. He left her buried in a shallow grave. It was clear to me, as I commented on the evidence in the guilt phase, that the only real issue was life or death; guilt was a given.

Your reaction in reading this is probably the same as that of the 12 jurors—disgust, anger, and a demand for retribution. King’s guilt was decided in less than 2 hours, and after another 3 hours jurors unanimously recommended death. No surprise, given the shocking evidence and her frantic cry for mercy. What did surprise me was the reaction of the bloggers on the Sarasota Herald Tribune website. The theme was essentially, “why did we waste time with a trial; take him out and string him up.” Now, no one exactly said that, but you get it; that was the message. Even more troubling were those bloggers who condemned the public defenders, who fought a hopeless battle to try to save the man’s life.

Readers criticized the lawyers for pleading for mercy, as if they had some part to play in the horrible crime.  Too often criminal lawyers are identified with their clients, as if we are proponents of crime. Fighting for the rights of the guilty truly does protect the rights of the innocent. So many times I have sat with the innocent client, wrongly accused, who laments that he had that “hang ‘em high” attitude before he was arrested. To date the Innocence Project has accounted for 242 post-conviction exonerations, many of whom were on death row. Whatever the client’s guilt, a lawyer’s ethics and oath require that every action be taken to ensure due process. When the ultimate penalty is imposed a right thinking society should expect no less. As our state anticipates two heinous murder trials we should all be mindful of this.

The lawyers representing the defendants accused in the Cheshire home invasion case and the Fairfield jewelry store killings are fulfilling the requirements that defendants be afforded due process of law. In cases as unpopular as these the temptation is to look at these lawyers like the fictional character, Atticus Finch, in the classic To Kill A Mockingbird. Theirs is a difficult job. It is only by fighting vigorously to protect the rights of the seemingly guilty that the rights of the innocent can be fully guaranteed.

Rich Meehan,, is a senior partner in the law firm of Meehan, Meehan & Gavin, LLP, Bridgeport, CT.  For more information on Rich or his firm you can access them at www.meehanlaw.com or www.ctdentalmalpracticelawyer.com, or email him at rtm@meehanlaw.com.

This piece ran several years ago on the editorial page of the Sunday Post. I wanted to share it once again. Merry Christmas.

Christmas remembered

I sat the other evening with my youngest son, Rich watching Christmas movies and having one of our ever increasing in frequency talks. Richie was a late life surprise as we learned that my wife and I were expecting our fifth son at the age of 43. There is a 10 year difference between him and the next youngest, Tim. Everyone else is grown and out of the house. People told us that having a child at that age would keep us young. It’s true, although at Little League and Peewee football we always looked like the grandparents. Being born to older parents has its rewards. Hopefully, we have gotten it all figured out by now, although we sometimes wonder. But what he missed is the chance to know his grandfathers better.

My wife’s Dad died when he was 8, and Rich’s memories of him are strained by the time that has passed. Kathy’s Dad was a man of little education, leaving school in the 8^th grade to work to help his family. John Mucci was a simple man with a gift. He could play the trumpet. With no formal education outside of music he spent most of his later adult life painting nosecones for then Avco-Lycoming in Stratford. From him I learned that for a union man there was one source for all knowledge more sacred than any encyclopedia: the guys in the shop. No matter the topic once he invoked “the guys in the shop said. . .” all debate ended. I found myself at times trying to make a point about the law, presumptuous of me with four years of college and three years of law school. No matter, once “the guys in the shop” spoke it was akin to the Pope speaking ex cathedra.

He was a diminutive figure with this marvelous mane of white hair. I met my wife when we were 16 years old. I recall the rare times he permitted her to date at that young age, going to their modest home across the street from the cemetery in Stratford, on a Saturday. There he would be gussied up in his tuxedo ready to play another gig. His was the big band sound of the era of Tommy Dorsey. He had studied trumpet in New York City, a rare accomplishment for the son of immigrant parents.

His other claim to fame was his cousin, Lt. Col. Henry Mucci, the founder of the Army Rangers. The “Colonel” as everyone around Bridgeport called him was recently memorialized in the Book, The Ghost Soldiers, the basis for the recent movie, The Great Raid. The Colonel lived with my father-in-law’s family as a youngster before his appointment to West Point. It was a great source of pride in John Mucci’s life that the State named the lower section of Rte 8 in Bridgeport as the Colonel Henry Mucci Highway.

This little Italian leprechaun could blow that horn with the best of any of them. I recall sitting with him as he would listen to a recording and then write out each melody or harmony line for the various instruments like a stenographer taking dictation. Each time we hear a great horn player we think back to this marvelous little man and his amazing gift.

Richie spent two more years with my Dad before he passed on. We sat and reminisced about him the other night as we watched the Jimmy Stewart classic, It’s a Wonderful Life. It was my Dad’s favorite movie. In particular he loved the English character actor, Henry Travers, who played Clarence Oddbody, the would be guardian angel trying to earn his wings. In his later years my dad actually favored Clarence in his likeness.

In contrast to the life my father-in-law led, my dad pursued a different dream. He labored as a Bridgeport cop for 14 years, 9 of which he spent in night school– first at the University of Bridgeport for 5 years; then a wearying 4 year trek to Hartford to UConn law school, eventually becoming the first cop in Connecticut to become a lawyer. Richie got to go fishing and attend Giant games with his grandpa. In his later years we spent a great deal of time together; simple time on the boat or just sitting in front of the tube on a Sunday afternoon.

Sitting watching Jimmy Stewart’s character, George Bailey lament to Clarence Oddbody I shared with Rich one of my fondest Christmas memories. I was raised in an era where Christmas wasn’t yet a major marketing extravaganza. It was a simple time in the mid-fifties and we were literally as poor as church mice. We lived in a third floor attic apartment through the kindness of my grandparents, who lived downstairs. Each Christmas eve my dad walked the beat on the East side of Bridgeport. We would go to sleep that night, no Christmas tree in the modest living room. We would awake Christmas morning to what was a true Christmas miracle. There was the tree with modest presents. No Nintendo Wii or Playstation3. It didn’t matter; to us it was still a miracle. Every Christmas eve for nine years it was the same. My dad would finish his shift and a local merchant who sold Christmas trees would give him one of the last stragglers to take home. To us it was the Rockefeller Center tree come to life. Dad, being a true Irishman, of course would stop at the local pub to hoist a few before finally arriving, perhaps with a little too much Christmas cheer in him ready to transform that tiny living room into our Christmas miracle.

Each of these men, in his own way, brought a richness to Richie’s young life. As time passes I am now becoming the grey bearded Papa to a growing brood of grandchildren; six granddaughters and two grandsons, with no end in sight. Hopefully, as the years pass and they become young men and women, there will be some special memory of this Papa they will carry with them. For now we cherish the memories of these two marvelous men.

Growing up I wanted to believe in heroes. There had to be people who inspire us and keep our belief in the virtue of humanity intact. My first hero was my Dad. Dick Meehan, Sr. was a Bridgeport cop. His dream was to be a lawyer some day. He had lost his dad when he was 8 and his mom at 14. He never wavered from his dream. He returned from the war. met my mom and joined Bridgeport’s finest. He enrolled in the University of Bridgeport as a night student and five years later had his degree. From there he enrolled in UCONN law and went nights for four years. It was a tough grind. There were three kids and a full time job. In those days cops worked 21 straight days without time off. He walked a beat on the Eastside. When things were quiet he would sneak into the Homeport Bar and Grill and study in the kitchen.

After four long years he graduated from law school. The grind had taken its toll on him and he spent 6 months in the VA hospital trying to regain his strength. He didn’t pass the bar exam the first time, but persevered. His political Godfather, Eddie Sandula, had helped get him an appointment as an assistant in the United States Attorney’s Office, but shortly before he was to start another politician with more muscle had his boy appointed. Bobby Kennedy was the Attorney General. Dad got on a train and headed to Washington to confront Kennedy but could not get an audience. He returned with an abiding dislike for the Kennedys. It became a family legacy.

Joe Knott was the Stratford Probate Judge and took my dad in as an associate in his law office. From that difficult beginning he rose to the position of Chief Public Defender for the state. Eventually he was appointed as a Superior Court Judge. He was the first cop in the state to become a lawyer. His appointment to the bench was the epitome of the American dream. Truly, he was a hero; not only to me but to a generation of young lawyers in this town who are still inspired by his memory.

He lived long enough to see my eldest son, Mike, graduate from law school and join the firm. He would be even prouder now if he was alive, to learn of the perseverance of my second son, Brian. Bri was an all-conference star of his college basketball team. After graduating from college he started his own promotional products company and was on the road to success. Then the world crashed around him. It was July 2003. Brian and his wife Kim were planning the Christening of their new son, Christian. They awoke one morning to find that the world had collapsed around them. Christian had succumbed to SIDS. I will never forget the sight of my son, crushed, kneeling by the small white coffin as Christian was laid to rest with my dad. Brian’s life seemed to end. His business floundered and he fought depression with every morning. He found strength in his remarkable wife and his daughter, Arianna.

To channel their grief the family came together to found the Christian Tomas Meehan Hope for SIDS Foundation. In three years the foundation raised over one quarter million dollars for SIDS research. Brian remade himself. He patented an insulated coffee mug with a built in clock that he called Timemug. It appeared to be an instant success, but retail sales never reached the goals he and his partners had set.

From there he moved on to marketing and advertising, all the time searching for an outlet for his creative and entrepreneurial spirit. He met Patrick Meyer and Robin Austin, two dynamic marketing geniuses. They mentored him. Brian had a vision that the new platform for marketing in the digital age would be social networking applications, particluarly smartphone apps. From this he entered the world of Iphone application development.

Brian has a passion that is remarkable. He will never be denied his dreams. With his partners he formed Pointy Heads, an Iphone app development company. His latest creation is Knocking Live Video Sharing for the Iphone. Twenty hour days and endless calls with his coding partner in Indian and the rest of his team appeared to be for naught, however. Apple controls the platform for Iphone apps and when Knocking was submitted he received a simple, no reply email rejecting it. He was crushed. There was no Bobby Kennedy to attempt to see. No one had signed the email. There was no one to call. There was simply no explanation. A lesser man would have resigned himself to failure. In his own words, Brian had pushed his own rock up his own mountain. He would not be denied. His partner in India sent him an email address that he believed was Steve Jobs, Apple’s founder and creative genius. Brian had always identified with Jobs. He shared the same entrepreneurial soul. He had read everything Jobs had written and watched every podcast or speech he had given. Brian was convinced that he could appeal to Jobs, so he wrote a poignant email to him. Here is a part of it:

“Dear Steve, Remember dropping out of school to drop in other classes to make it as an entrepreneur? I have admired you as an entrepreneur. I am a life long entrepreneur. I have never given up. I push my own rock up my mountain no matter how long it takes to get to the top, and love every minute of the journey. I believe you will respond. I believe Apple is fair and truly cares about its platform and developers. Though I have to say, not having anyone to speak to for review is very cold, dark and not Apple. As much as I want my own response….I am writing for my fellow developers spending all of their own money, working around the clock just to post their apps to your store, only to get rejected in a way that is cold and hopeless is why I am writing you today. Do it for the sake of all developers. Give them a pre-approval process, not a set of guidelines that are subjective and ultimately up to opinions and feelings. Give them a human to talk to. Imagine building the Iphone for 12 months only to have AT&T send an e-mail with no one to discuss it saying ‘rejected due to 3.1.2′.”

That was on Saturday November 21st. On Monday a senior member of Jobs’ staff called to tell Brian his email had made it to Jobs. Knocking Live Video was approved! Brian had accomplished what so many budding Iphone app developers had failed to do; he had scaled the Mount Olympus of the digital age and spoke to Zeus, himself.

Today, As I write this his Iphone app debuted. In less than 6 hours it rose from #60 among social networking applications to #8 outdistancing the stalwarts of social networking, LinkedIn and Twitter. Tonight, his grandfather is cradling Christian with a smile on his face. There is another hero in the Meehan family.

Blogging Travails

Post what you want; say what you want? After all it’s the internet and who can figure out my identity! Turns out the ‘net is not as anonymous as some bloggers think. Blogs represent a new type of social and political commentary. With the bias that is apparent in some cable television networks more people are turning to blog sites for news and information. Many mainstream journalists are utilizing blogs to put their personal spin on the news of the day. Wikipedia, the online encyclopedia, reports that in December 2007 the search engine Technorati was tracking 112 million blogs daily. Hey, you’re reading my blog, so get the idea.

Not only are professionals turning to the blogosphere to disseminate information and opinions, personal “blogspots” are becoming a means of instant communication among family and friends, highlighting baby pictures, wedding announcements, anniversaries and the like. The world of the couch potato has certainly expanded.

Not to be confused with blogs are the internet message boards and forums. Every news site provides an ability to post comments following stories.  Forums exist for nearly every hobby, product, political expression, and on and on. Forums are intended to be informational and allow those with a common interest to share ideas.

Nearly all comments are posted under pseudonyms. Anonymity is so empowering. Most sites warn that profane comments violate the terms of use. Since there is no internet forum “court” I don’t know what powers of enforcement there are for violators of the forum’s self-imposed code of pleasant commentary. I doubt that there are squads of internet police that will storm the profanity user’s home and trash his laptop. Or are there?

Aside from policing profane comments, there are now civil ramifications for vicious and libelous posts. The idea that I can say whatever I wish on a site because it does not reflect any information that would identify me has emboldened many users to make vicious, defamatory statements. The day of the anonymous internet flamer or troll, as they are called, may be coming to a close. Beware all you angry posters; the courts are allowing your targets to strike back. Early attempts by targets of vile posts to obtain identifying information about the unnamed flamers were rebuffed by courts, citing the First Amendment’s right of free speech. Two recent cases have suggested that some judges believe that there should be some reasonable limits on that freedom.

In 2008 anonymous posters on Craigslist accused champagne producer Korbel of destroying Redwood forests and punishing employees who reported sexual harassment; charges the company denied. Korbel struck back by suing Craigslist. Now a judge in Santa Clara, California has ordered internet provider, Comcast to turn over identifying information about the users who have made these defamatory comments. The judge has ruled that the unnamed users will be given notice of his order to release their identities and an ability to mount a legal challenge. Interestingly, none of the anonymous commentators appeared in court to argue against the request. To do so would have outed them.

The website, Topix, maintains forums for various news organizations. Recently a judge in Texas has ordered the online news site to reveal identifying information for 178 commenters who posted remarks about a couple who had been charged with sexual assault crimes. The couple was acquitted but the defamatory posts continued. The couple sued the anonymous posters but not Topix itself.  The lawsuit described the comments as, “perverted, sick, vile, inhumane accusations.”

Despite using a pseudonym, when you hit that “enter” key it leaves a signature that is traceable to your computer’s IP address. So if you want to exercise your right to free speech, do so; but don’t say anything you wouldn’t sign your name to. The internet police are watching!

Rich Meehan,, is a senior partner in the law firm of Meehan, Meehan & Gavin, LLP, Bridgeport, CT.  For more information on Rich or his firm you can access them at www.meehanlaw.com or www.ctdentalmalpracticelawyer.com, or email him at rtm@meehanlaw.com.