HOW THE SCREW TURNED
There was no training manual for new hires in the Dallas County jail when Ethan Caldwell first began working there in the summer of 1964 as a “relief” jailer. At the time, all full-time jailers were required to take their annual 2-week vacations during the months of June, July and August each year. During those months, temporary jailers were utilized to fill the vacancies. It wasn’t considered at all feasible to work even a single shift short-handed in the jail. Requiring as it did round-the-clock attention, work days were divided into 3 eight-hour shifts: 7 to 3; 3 to 11; and 11 to 7. Meals were available before and after each shift and a mid-shift meal was provided to the jailers at their service stations.
The summer relief positions were normally filled by teachers and college graduate students, whose schedules typically made them available for hire during the jail vacation months. Caldwell had just completed his first year of law school at Southern Methodist University in Dallas when he was able to land a position as a “screw” for the summer. It’s impossible to provide a precise etymology of the slang term “screw” as used to refer to jail and prison guards. The term was in common use at least as far back as the Victorian era and it was still very prevalent during Ethan’s employment at the jail. Jailers were not called that to their faces, but among the prisoner population, it was the term of preference for most.
After spending every previous school-year summer working on construction crews or factory assembly lines while scrounging for meals all the while, the jailer position represented a major upgrade for Ethan. Having 3 meals provided every work day was a perquisite of the sort he had never imagined. To be clear, the jailers were not served the same food as the prisoners. There was a dining hall on the top floor of the jail building where meals were cooked and served for the jailers only. Granted, the meals were prepared by prisoner trusties, but there was almost always a good cook or two among the prisoner populace, prisoners who were delighted to take on the responsibilities of a chef and work hard to hang on to the position. The jailers ate very well indeed.
The county sheriff at the time was Bill Decker, something of a legend even then. He was, of course, the true boss of everything that went on at the jail, but he spent very little of his time there, concerned as he was with all the criminal activity to be policed in his very large metropolitan jurisdiction. He made his reputation by chasing and catching criminals, whereas the rather mundane task of keeping them locked up was a low priority for him. But it was part of his job description, so he took it seriously; he just didn’t enjoy it and therefore spent as little time attending to jail duties as possible. Thus, his infrequent visits onto the jail floors created something of a stir among the jailers and prisoners alike. Although firearms were strictly forbidden anywhere in the jail where prisoners were housed, when Decker made the rare visit onto a floor of prisoners, he did so fully armed, wearing twin pistols on his hips. Doing so was an obvious show of power and authority by him. In public statements, Decker often referred to the fact that, in his crime fighting activities, he never carried a firearm. There were quite a few who disputed that claim.
***
With no manual or written instructions, training for new hire jailers was 100% on-the-job, which worked OK because there were very few rules to be mastered. Actually, there was only one rule for jailers; everything else amounted to no more than policies and procedures, all designed to implement and insure observance of THE rule, which was: don’t let any prisoner escape. There were certainly other things to learn, such as procedures for the care and feeding of the prisoners, but a failure to carry out a jailer’s duties in those areas was not deemed critical. To be honest, the procedures for prisoner care were mostly considered guidelines only, to be executed as best as circumstances would permit.
So, it didn’t take long for Ethan Caldwell to find his way around the jailhouse and pick up on the critical aspects of his routines. Right away, Ethan ran afoul of some of the most basic principles of conduct concerning relationships with prisoners: there was to be none. No fraternizing with prisoners; and no providing of favors to any prisoner, particularly if it involved some activity outside the jail premises. It wasn’t exactly clear to Ethan how such rules related to the cardinal rule of “no escape”, but the experienced jailers made it clear that getting too familiar with any particular prisoner would lead to expectations and demands for similar treatment from other prisoners and that just could not be allowed to happen. Maintaining the wall – or, in this case bars – between jailer and prisoner was of paramount importance for keeping the peace and avoiding unrest among the ranks. Ethan figured the rules were a little silly and that he could manage his own relationships with the prison populace, if any, just fine.
That attitude led Ethan to become interested in the personal case of one A. M. Jefferson, recently convicted of his third felony offense and condemned to life imprisonment (the sentence known around the jail as the “big bitch,” whereas the “little bitch” was a reference to a 12-year sentence, common for second felony offenders). On a late August tour around the jail floor to make his periodic inmate count in the course of a graveyard shift, Ethan noticed Jefferson still awake in the early morning hours writing in the very poor lighting available in his cell. In a whisper, Ethan casually asked what he was writing.
“My habeas escapus motion,” he replied in a voice inappropriately loud for the time of night. (“Habeas escapus” was prison terminology for the legal term “habeas corpus,” a Latin phrase that translates literally to “show me the body.” In the United States, habeas corpus is a process through which a person in detention may apply to the courts for a writ to bring the detainee before a court to present proof why the detention is unlawful).
“Oh, really, that can be rather difficult, I would imagine,” Ethan offered somewhat lamely, not trying to sound too pedantic. “What grounds are you basing your motion on?”
“So far, I’m going with no adequate counsel and no due process. You got any ideas?”
“Not really. I just finished one year of law school and it was mostly about legal theories and not so much about how the criminal justice system works. But if you want to talk about your case a little, maybe something will occur to me.”
During the course of a rather long and rambling account of his various convictions, interrupted a couple of times by Ethan having to leave and make another tour around the cell block, Jefferson finally said something that switched on a light for Ethan. He didn’t know what to make of it at the time, but it struck Ethan as something worth looking into.
At some point Jefferson said, “You know that Judge Mercer has been a real pain in the ass for me. Back when I got my first burglary arrest, he was an assistant DA working my case. And now here he is sitting in as the judge for my last trial.”
The conversation ended with Ethan telling him that he would be returning to law school in a few days, but that he would look into his case when he got a chance and get back to him.
Jefferson just shrugged and said, “Sure thing.” And then he went back to writing.
***
Among the courses Ethan had signed up for that fall semester was one called Legal Aid Clinic, a course designed to provide students with some practical experience in the law by allowing them to work on actual cases on a pro bono basis, supervised, of course, by a law professor who could step in whenever a licensed attorney was required. The cases were usually minor matters, such as traffic court cases, domestic disputes, simple divorce proceedings and some probate matters.
The professor in charge was one Laslow V. Lennart who assured his students on the first day of class that the V in his name did not stand for “Versus” and so his name was not a real case citation. He did not offer up to the class what the V actually stood for; and if anyone bothered to look it up, Ethan never heard about it. Thus, from that day forward, Lennart was known to the students as Professor Versus. It turned out to be a term of endearment because most students came to respect the man thoroughly as a teacher and as a lawyer.
Professor Versus agreed to allow Ethan to work on Jefferson’s case to the extent of conducting research into legal issues and reviewing the case file. He was to provide the teacher with regular reports and discuss with him any suggestions he might have for assisting with Jefferson’s habeas corpus filing. Ethan decided to look into the Judge Mercer issue, stumbling upon an apparently innocuous provision in the Texas Constitution that sent him searching for some case law interpretations. The Constitution provided in Article 5, Section 11, inter alia, “No Judge shall sit in any case wherein the judge … shall have been counsel in the case.” Straightforward and logical, it would seem. There were no cases providing judicial interpretations of the clause. It simply had never come up in any criminal case before, perhaps understandably.
Ethan then prepared a memo for the professor, taking the position that, in Jefferson’s case, Judge Mercer had been “counsel in the case” because a prior conviction in which Mercer was the prosecuting attorney was later used to enhance the punishment in the case wherein Mercer sat as the judge. In other words, the life sentence imposed by Judge Mercer could only have been assessed by proving two prior offenses, one of which was the original case wherein Mercer was the DA.
The professor’s response was negative. While he praised Ethan’s research and the originality of his argument, he was convinced that the framers of the Texas Constitution could not possibly have intended the phrase “been counsel in the case” to extend to other related cases. Plus, he said, “We are dealing with a habeas corpus proceeding, not a motion to get the Judge to recuse himself from hearing the case.”
Ethan shot back, “The Constitutional clause is not about recusal or discretion, it is an absolute prohibition. If my argument is right, Judge Mercer would have been completely barred from hearing the case. Since he did hear it and imposed the sentence using his previous case as a basis for the sentence, the conviction should be overturned in its entirety.”
“Hold on. Hold on” the professor responded. “I’m just telling you how this is going to play out in the real world of criminal justice. You do understand, do you not, that Jefferson was convicted in a jury trial in which Judge Mercer’s involvement in a prior case played no part in the decision. Whoever hears our application – if we can even get a hearing – is going to be
persuaded by that fact and by the further fact that no basic injustice has resulted.
“Now it’s time for you to hold on,” Ethan blurted, immediately realizing his temerity in speaking to a law professor in such a manner, but simultaneously determining to proceed with his argument. “Who are we to determine whether or not an injustice occurred? As lawyers, we don’t get to make those kinds of determinations, do we? Aren’t we supposed to be advocates in an adversary system of justice, representing our clients to the fullest and depending on the system to mete out the justice? Even if there was no injustice in this particular trial, who’s to say an injustice didn’t occur sometime before? Perhaps it occurred early in Jefferson’s life when some form of injustice prevented him from exploring opportunities that would or could have led him away from a life of crime. I’m sorry, but I just think we absolutely must pursue this matter on Jefferson’s behalf.”
“OK, I love your argument, if not your insolent tone; but I must point out that Mr. Jefferson is not our client – at least, not yet. However, if you will draft an appropriate pleading presenting your position, we can talk to Mr. Jefferson about it and, if he says OK, you can pursue it as a good practice for this class.”
***
A.M. Jefferson was not a man given to easy and quick displays of emotion, but Ethan clearly noticed a brightening of his eyes when he was told that Professor Versus – er, Lennart – was going to go on record as his lawyer and that Ethan would also be working for him.
“I’m just happy to have someone listen to me and help me with my situation,” was all he could manage, but it was easy to detect a small sense of joy and hope in his words.
With an amended application for the writ of habeas corpus on file, a well written brief accompanying it and a lawyer now on the case, the Lennart/Caldwell team was able to secure a court hearing. At the hearing, Judge Mercer appeared to testify. While he admitted that, based on the records presented to him by Ethan, it appeared he had, in fact, served as the Assistant District Attorney handling the case wherein Jefferson received his first conviction. He said he had no recollection of the particular facts of the case and that, while as judge in Jefferson’s third conviction he did not know or realize he had been involved in the first case. He further stated that his involvement in the first case was never a factor in his consideration to impose the life sentence following the jury’s guilty verdict in the third case. The sentencing guidelines for judges were quite clear in those situations, so it was virtually impossible for his involvement in the earlier case to have affected his judgement in that regard.
As expected, the District Court denied the habeas corpus petition and Professor Versus suggested the matter should be dropped at that stage. But Ethan was insistent: “We knew all along our chances were slim in the trial court. If we were going to get someone to look at the legal issue seriously, it would have to be on appeal. I’ll do all the work on the filing and the brief” Ethan offered.
***
At oral argument on the appeal, Professor Lennart requested the justices grant special permission for Ethan to present part of the Appellant’s argument, a request that was quickly granted by the curious justices. So, Ethan’s first formal appearance in court came before the Texas Court of Criminal Appeals, the highest court in the state for criminal matters. By all honest opinions, he didn’t do that well, but was helped along by some sympathetic justices. Professor Lennart did much better and within a few weeks the court handed down its opinion, reversing the trial court’s ruling, granting the writ of habeas corpus and, in effect, requiring a new trial for Jefferson. The Court basically adopted in full the argument presented by Ethan in his brief: the fact that Judge Mercer was unaware of and thus not influenced by his prior involvement in the case was irrelevant. The Constitution provided a complete bar to Mercer acting as judge in the case. Going a bit further, the Court held it was Judge Mercer’s duty, as in all cases, to determine whether or not there existed any impediment to him sitting as judge in the case.
While Professor Versus was thoroughly pleased with the outcome and with my efforts on the case, he was quick to point out that all we had really accomplished was the granting of a new trial for Jefferson, wherein the outcome would, predictably, be the same.
He was wrong. It turned out that the family victimized by Jefferson’s burglary had moved to Seattle and were not the least interested in testifying in a retrial. They could be forced to appear, but their cooperation level would be minimal. Further, the investigating officer on the case had retired from the police force and was hospitalized, suffering from terminal cancer. The District Attorney, certain that Jefferson would be back in custody shortly for some further offense, made the decision not to retry the case. Jefferson was soon released.*
As a nearly normal employee of the Dallas County Jail, Ethan Caldwell had not only broken a basic jail policy by taking a personal interest in the affairs of one of the inmates, he had broken the one and only jail Rule: he allowed a prisoner to escape. Sure, it was done by legal process, but the prisoner was out and Ethan not only allowed it, he participated in the escape. The screw had turned.
Ethan was not re-hired as a relief jailer the following summer.
*Neither Professor Lennart nor Ethan Caldwell ever heard from Jefferson following the appellate court decision and his subsequent release. Two years later, while Ethan was working as a law clerk for a federal judge, he received a letter from Professor Lennart enclosing a copy of an article from the Dallas Morning News regarding a shoutout during a burglary-gone-wrong scenario. Three people had suffered fatal gunshot wounds. The husband and wife owners of the home, whose names were being withheld, and the apparent intruder, identified as one A. M. Jefferson, were dead inside the residence. Two children, ages 8 and 10, were asleep in another part of the house and were not injured in the shootings. Authorities pointed out that Jefferson had three prior convictions for burglary, although the third such conviction had been overturned by an appellate court for what was termed a “legal technicality.”