VOICES
Doing
Justice to Jail Time
How not to report about sentencing
By
Mark Thompson
A breaking development in
one of the most closely watched trials of 2002 dominated the cable
news shows last November 4. “Jury Reaches Verdict in Winona
Ryder Case,” proclaimed the caption that ran for hours on
CNN. “If Convicted She Could Face Three Years in Prison.”
Close variations on that second statement had appeared by then
in dozens of news stories about the actress caught shoplifting
in Beverly Hills. The reports that mentioned the potential sentence
might as well have added that Ryder “could get hit by a meteorite.”
Both statements would have been true, though the chance of either
outcome was virtually nil.
While reporters are instinctively wary of speculation about extraterrestrial
objects, fantastic overstatements about prospective criminal sentences
have been a staple of mainstream news for years. The truth eventually
comes out when sentences are handed down. Ryder, for one, was
ordered to pay restitution and do community service, a reasonable
disposition for a first shoplifting offense. But the press isn’t
doing the public any favors by routinely passing on grossly exaggerated
statements about how much prison time a defendant could get.
The problem is endemic in reporting about criminal cases ranging
from world-famous to mundane. The boxer Mike Tyson “faces
a maximum prison sentence of sixty-three years” for a 1991
date rape. He serves three. The junk-bond king Michael Milken
“faces a staggering maximum prison term of 520 years”
for his 1989 indictment on ninety-eight counts of racketeering,
insider trading, and fraud. He’s out in two. Michael Frechette
“faces up to eight years in prison” for running a bingo
scam in Indianapolis. He gets probation.
The pattern is repeating itself in cases that are now in pretrial
proceedings. The American pilots who mistakenly dropped a bomb
that killed four Canadian soldiers in Afghanistan, for example,
“face up to sixty-four years in military prison if convicted
of all charges,” stories about that case routinely say without
even hinting that such a prison term isn’t remotely possible
for carelessness in combat.
Reporters aren’t making up the big numbers. They can be derived
by toting up the maximum term for each count in an indictment.
Prosecutors usually are more than happy to do the math, often
conveniently listing the maximum potential sentence in press releases.
The staggering numbers serve their purpose by sobering up defendants,
helping induce guilty pleas. But credulous reporting of those
numbers by the press leaves the public in the dark about the sentences
that offenders realistically face.
The conspicuous lack of truth in reporting about sentencing has
even helped push disillusioned members of the public to take matters
into their own hands. A popular uprising against sentencing laws
has swept across the nation in the past decade, winning passage
of tough mandatory minimum sentences, rigid sentencing guidelines,
and “truth in sentencing” laws that require violent
offenders to remain behind bars for at least 85 percent of any
prison sentence. As the argument in favor of a truth-in-sentencing
initiative on the ballot in Oregon in 1999 explained, “The
intent here is that the victim, the press and the public are entitled
to know the reality of the imposed sentence rather than believing
some announced number of months that may have little connection
to what is actually served.”
Paradoxically, the sentencing reforms have saddled many states
with sentences that are now irrationally harsh, and prison budgets
are rising inexorably. In desperation, more than half the states
are scrambling to cut sentences for some offenses and some jails
and prisons have been forced to make wholesale early releases
of nonviolent inmates.
Injecting some truth in reporting about sentencing isn’t
going to produce a more rational criminal-justice system overnight.
But it will produce a more informed electorate. And it won’t
take much effort on the part of the press.
Consider, for example, the case of WorldCom’s former chief
financial officer Scott Sullivan. Last September, newspaper readers
were told that he “faces a total of twenty-five years in
prison if convicted of all counts.” While that stretched
credulity, reports a few months later shattered it. After prosecutors
added new charges, one newspaper reported, “Officially, he
now faces 185 years in prison.” In that story, the reporter
added a caveat, which should be standard practice in reporting
about potential sentences. “Any sentence would likely be
far less under federal sentencing guidelines.”
