Federal crimes in Charlottesville

The horrific events in Charlottesville yesterday have prompted a number of important questions associated with the political and moral necessity of condemning the evils of white supremacy and political violence: why did the President fail — once more — to specifically condemn white supremacy and explicitly disavow fascist and racist supporters? Will Republicans condemn the President’s anemic and equivocal response? Should we call this domestic terrorism, and why would that matter? Those are worthy questions.

Now that one person is in custody related to the car crash that killed a 32-year-old woman, however, it is also important to begin looking at the criminal law questions, as well as the political ones. The Justice Department — after an appropriate statement of condemnation from Attorney General Sessions — announced that it has opened a civil rights investigation. It is early, and we need to await more evidence before arriving at any conclusions about charges or guilt. Still, what might the Feds be looking for?

Most likely, investigators will focus on whether there was a conspiracy to violate civil rights of anyone, including the counter-protesters, pursuant to 18 U.S.C. 241. Investigators will also likely focus on 18 U.S.C. 245, which targets actions against those engaged in certain specific federally-protected activities; whether anyone was intentionally obstructed in the free exercise of their religion, pursuant to 18 U.S.C. 247; and whether this was a violent hate crime, pursuant to 18 U.S.C. 249. These latter three charges, in particular, would require evidence that the person had acted with some specifically proscribed animus, such as racial or religious animus. With respect to the car incident specifically, because death resulted from the actions of the driver, capital punishment is available under sections 241, 245, and 247, but not section 249, if those statutes applied.

But the Feds may not need to rely solely upon civil rights enforcement statutes here.  For example, 18 U.S.C. 33 makes it a crime for any person, acting “with intent to endanger the safety of any person on board” or “with reckless disregard for the safety of human life,” to damage, disable or destroy any motor vehicle “used, operated, or employed in interstate or foreign commerce.”  Section 33 also makes it a crime to, “with like intent,” disable or incapacitate “any driver or person employed in connection with the operation or maintenance of the motor vehicle, or in any way lessen[] the ability of such person to perform his duties as such.”  The video and photographic evidence from the scene in Charlottesville strongly suggests that Section 33 is a potential avenue for prosecution, though this would also depend upon other factors, such as evidence to prove the jurisdictional element (though that should ordinarily not prove to be difficult).

Section 33 does not specifically employ capital punishment, but it need not.  Section 33 is a part of Chapter 2. This is important because Section 34 provides that the death penalty applies to anyone convicted of a crime listed in Chapter 2, where the crime has resulted in a person’s death.

Another important question that remains is whether the driver is a member of, or acted on behalf of or at the direction of or in an effort to become a member of or increase status in, some specific entity, organization or association-in-fact. If so, this could potentially implicate the racketeering laws, notably the violent crimes in aid of racketeering (VICAR) statute, 18 U.S.C. 1959.  Unlike the RICO statute (sections 1961 and 1962), VICAR provides for capital punishment.  Of course, in addition to proving the underlying conduct, the Government would need to prove that the entity met the statutory definition of a racketeering “enterprise.”

Finally, it is worth noting that any mention of capital punishment is subject to both the procedural prerequisites of 18 U.S.C. sections 3591 and 3592, as well as the DOJ’s death penalty protocol.

Virginia has proven itself more than capable of handling high-profile homicide cases.  But in recent years, we have also seen the Justice Department take the position that federal action is required when civil rights enforcement is at stake.  It will therefore be important to find out whether investigators can uncover evidence of animus, or other evidence, that would be sufficient to implicate the federal civil rights statutes in Title 18.  But even without the civil rights statutes in play, federal prosecutors still may have an avenue for federal action, depending upon what the investigation reveals.  The question would then be, as it often is, whether the Feds would be content to let Virginia handle the case alone, whether Virginia would defer to the Feds, or whether there would be dual prosecutions, in which case the Feds would have to assert a unique federal interest that would not be vindicated by the state prosecution.  If the civil rights statutes are implicated, and if prior similar cases are any guide, the chances of a federal prosecution are very high.

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When does robbery of a local brothel substantially affect interstate commerce? Apparently, pretty much always.

Last year, I posted about the Supreme Court’s review of, and unsurprising decision in, Taylor v. United States.  That case, up from the Fourth Circuit, held that the jurisdictional element of the Hobbs Act, 18 U.S.C. 1951, is satisfied where there is a robbery involving a drug dealer.

This past week, the Fourth Circuit issued another opinion raising a similar question about the application of the “affects commerce” element of the Hobbs Act to an unlawful business operation.  This time, rather than drug dealers, the court in United States v. Lopez considered the 2007 robbery of a Maryland brothel.

As the court described the facts of the case, the Prince George’s County brothel was located in a first-floor apartment, staffed by a Adelaida Garcia-Calderon and a doorman/money collector.  Two young men entered, demanded money, tied the doorman’s feet and hands, and then one of them raped Garcia-Calderon at knife-point.  Another man, Carlos Cordon, walked in on the robbery and was stabbed to death by one of the perpetrators; Cordon’s body was found behind the apartment building.  Garcia-Calderon and the doorman survived, but the case remained unsolved for several years.  Finally, local police were able to match the DNA from the crime scene to Miguel Ramon Cerros-Cruz, an MS-13 member, and Alexsi Lopez.  Police also had the testimony of an MS-13 member who was incarcerated with Lopez and overheard Lopez confess to the brothel robbery and killing, while also implicating Cerros-Cruz.

Lopez was indicted for violating, and conspiring to violate, the Hobbs Act.  (Although he was 17 at the time of the crime, Lopez was 24 at the time of trial, and was subject to trial in federal district court; the five-year statute of limitations was also extended because of the DNA testing, see 18 U.S.C. 3297).  Cerros-Cruz pleaded guilty; Lopez went to trial and was convicted.  The court sentenced Lopez to 20 years in prison.  (Though I remain curious: if there was evidence that the perpetrators committed the robbery, rape, or killing in order to maintain or increase their standing with MS-13, why not charge the case under VICAR, 18 U.S.C. 1959?).

The Fourth Circuit rejected Lopez’s claim on appeal that there was insufficient evidence to show the required effect on commerce.  Citing the familiar line that the Hobbs Act requires only a de minimis effect on commerce, the court noted that a brothel — like drug dealing — is an “inherently economic enterprise.”  Moreover, the court noted, in many cases, including this one, the brothel workers will travel across state lines.  The Government also provided evidence that the brothel used condoms manufactured out-of-state, and that Lopez and Cerros-Cruz targeted the brothel because of its nature as an illegal business that dealt in cash.

Although this case feels much like Taylor, that case expressly limited its holding to situations involving drug dealers as targets and to “drugs or drug proceeds,” because the federal government has jurisdiction over those markets.  “We do not resolve what the Government must prove to establish Hobbs Act robbery where some other type of business or victim is targeted,” the Court said.  After Taylor, it is worth asking whether a small-scale, local brothel engages in the kind of commercial activity over which the United States exercises jurisdiction the way that it does with respect to the controlled substance market.  After all, the Taylor decision was arguably inevitable in light of Gonzales v. Raich, which expressly decided that Congress had the power to regulate the interstate drug marketplace by reaching even wholly intrastate, locally grown marijuana.

The Fourth Circuit did not have a similar precedent on which it could rely with respect to federal jurisdiction over an interstate brothel marketplace.  Still, existing Hobbs Act case law seems to support the Lopez holding. This includes the more general rationale offered in Taylor — citing Raich — with respect to aggregation of economic activity and Congress’s ability to reach intrastate incidents of an activity that is part of a broader class of activity that is within Congress’s reach.  See also Perez v. United States.  Just as drug dealing is a “moneymaking endeavor,” as Taylor described it, so, too, is prostitution.   To reach this activity through the Hobbs Act, though, one must conclude that robbery of a brothel would also effect an interstate brothel marketplace over which the United States exercises jurisdiction.

In addition, multiple lower federal court cases recognize that where the robbery depletes the assets of a commercial establishment, then this is enough to satisfy the jurisdictional element.  But does the Lopez case involve the depletion of assets of a business, or simply of the individual sex worker or brothel manager?  Presumably, of course, someone else  — to whom Garcia-Calderon answers — is getting a cut of the cash.  But is that cash used for purposes connected with the business (such as to buy condoms, or bed linens, or other items associated with pursuing a business that involves sexual activity)?  Also, the fact that the condoms came from out-of-state provides a thin basis for satisfying what should be a more demanding jurisdictional analysis, unless the robbers took condoms, as well.  Nonetheless, federal courts have found the Hobbs Act satisfied on much thinner grounds than exist in Lopez.

Still, it is worth considering the gravamen of Justice Thomas’s Taylor dissent, and the efforts that Justice Alito made to limit the reach of the Taylor holding (perhaps to satisfy some of Justice Thomas’s concerns).  If the Fourth Circuit is correct that the brothel’s character as a commercial establishment, even an unlawful one, is by itself sufficient to satisfy the Hobbs Act (and thus the Commerce Clause), then it would seem that any robbery of any business — no matter how small, or how local, and no matter the volume of its business nor the amount of money that it makes — would be enough to justify the exercise of federal jurisdiction under the statute.  One wonders whether that rule would be consistent not only with the statutory definition of “commerce,” but also with a Constitution that denies a general police power to the federal government.

Perhaps the Fourth Circuit, even if ultimately correct, could have offered a more substantial analysis with respect to the effect on commerce.  It is one thing to acknowledge that the Hobbs Act incorporates all of Congress’s commerce power.  It is quite another to interpret the Hobbs Act in a way that gives Congress more than that.

 

Drug prosecutions in the Trump Administration

At one of this week’s White House press briefings, Sean Spicer spent considerable time (clearly more than he wished) discussing the President’s approach to federal drug policy.  This is one of the areas that I had previously flagged as representing a potentially meaningful departure from Obama Administration policy at the Justice Department.  Spicer’s briefing appeared to signal that this Administration would take a more aggressive approach to drug crime than its predecessor.  But that remains unclear.

Indeed, Spicer’s briefing may have created more new questions than it answered, which has become a rather predictable consequence of his briefings.  Notably, Spicer discussed an obscure appropriations rider (which I previously discussed here) that defunds federal prosecutions for drug offenses in states with liberal medicinal marijuana laws.  He distinguished — on no fewer than three occasions — recreational use from medicinal use, saying, with respect to federal drug enforcement relating to recreational use, “I do think you’ll see greater enforcement of it.”  Presumably, in context, he means greater enforcement of the Controlled Substances Act where the use is recreational.  Strangely, he subsequently tried to walk that statement back, instead referring the issue to the DOJ.

But the question now arises: will the Sessions DOJ more aggressively prosecute CSA offenses?  Will the Sessions DOJ reverse the Holder Memo from August 2013 that directed federal prosecutors not to allege drug quantities that trigger mandatory minimums if certain criteria are met?  That was a major pronouncement from Main Justice, and will have a meaningful effect on the way federal prosecutors treat drug crimes.  Yet the Administration has thus far been silent, and Spicer’s briefing did not help to clarify that matter.

Moreover, the rider to which he alluded does not cover every jurisdiction, because not every jurisdiction has liberal medical marijuana laws.  And it only applies where the defendant is in compliance with all of the State’s marijuana use laws.  This means that, potentially, a defendant who is in violation of the CSA, but who is using the marijuana for medicinal purposes in a state that is not covered by the rider (say, for example, West Virginia), could still be subject to prosecution.  Spicer did not seem to appreciate this scenario, and it raises the question: will the Administration prosecute those defendants?  If so, does that not obliterate the distinction between medicinal use and recreational use that Spicer had drawn?  Also, the rider is of limited duration; Congress could change it at any time.  What will the Administration’s position be on continuing the policy adopted by the rider?  Spicer did not say, but his distinction between recreational use and medicinal use would suggest that the Administration wants the rider to exist indefinitely.  Does Jeff Sessions?

Finally, Spicer was asked repeatedly about the Administration’s decision to reverse the Obama Administration’s interpretation of Title IX with respect to transgender bathroom access.  Spicer referred to this as a “states’ rights” issue (it is not, though that is a subject for another day), and said “we are a state’s rights party.”  I have said before that the use of the term “states’ rights” is constitutionally unsound, in my view, and that conservatives should not use it (“federalism” is a far better term, and is more accurate).  But if Spicer is correct that the Administration is committed to federalism, what, then, does that mean for federal drug law generally?  Of course, the CSA was upheld against a Commerce Clause challenge in Gonzales v. Raich, but two notable conservatives – Chief Justice Rehnquist and Justice Thomas – dissented in that case, as did Justice O’Connor (a notable defender of federalism and of state interests).  Why is drug law not a “states’ rights issue,” too?  By making the transgender bathroom issue one of federalism, Spicer has opened the door to questions about whether the Trump Administration is committed to federalism across subject matter, or whether its approach to Title IX is a kind of fair-weather federalism.

Sure, the appropriations rider is a federalism-protection measure.  But reference to the rider alone tells us nothing about the Administration’s view more broadly concerning the role of the federal government in making and enforcing criminal drug laws.  Perhaps more notably, Spicer’s responses raised this question: if federalism demands respecting the states that have chosen to make medicinal use legal, why does federalism not demand respecting those states that have chosen to make recreational use legal?  In other words, even if we grant the difference between recreational and medicinal use, does a true commitment to federalism require respect for state decisions as to both?

I’m no fan of more liberal drug laws.  There must be a robust drug policy regime that takes a variety of approaches — including, but not limited to, prosecutorial ones — to the range of drug problems in this country.  Spicer, of course, cannot be expected to answer at one briefing every question regarding the President’s views on these various problems.  But this Administration needs a coherent approach to both drug policy and constitutional federalism. And right now it has neither.

 

“Send in the Feds”? Don’t bother, they’re here.

Keeping up with President Trump’s Twitter activity is a full-time job, and I don’t have that kind of time.  So I rarely find it useful to comment on any of his Tweets.  I could not, however, resist responding to one from late last night, in which he makes a statement about the violence plaguing Chicago: “If Chicago doesn’t fix the horrible ‘carnage’ going on . . . I will send in the Feds!”

What does that even mean?

Chicago – a great American city by any definition – is home to a busy United States Attorneys Office, and field offices for the FBI, DEA, and ATF, among others.  Federal prosecutors and other law enforcement personnel in Chicagoland – among the brightest and most talented in the Nation – routinely work on violent criminal cases within federal jurisdiction.  Even a cursory look at the press releases for these federal offices shows that they have been busy using federal resources to fight Chicago’s dire crime problem (which seems connected in substantial part to a drug trafficking and gang problem).  See, e.g., here, and here, and here, and here, and here, and here.

In other words, what kind of federal role in Chicago does President Trump envision that does not already exist there?

One possibility is that he is not talking about policing and prosecution at all, but rather is talking about using National Guard troops.  That would raise serious legal issues, if the troops are called upon to engage in civilian law enforcement.  The image of uniformed military and even of military weaponry constantly patrolling Chicago’s streets is not an image of America becoming great again.  Another possibility is that he is talking about sending more federal money or other resources to Chicago to help combat the problem.  That would be welcome news to city and state officials in Chicago, I imagine (see a Chicago Tribune piece here).  But that is not typically what one would think of when hearing “send in the Feds,” a phrase that suggests a substantial physical presence by federal officials.  Perhaps even more agents and AUSAs could be placed there; perhaps federal drug and gang task forces there could be enhanced and better funded.  I would favor that move.  But let’s be clear: that’s not sending in the feds – that’s sending in more Feds.

Finally, while there is certainly a robust federal law enforcement role where the violent criminal activity involves guns, gangs, and/or drugs, does the President believe that the federal government should supplant the role of city and state officials in ordinary law enforcement involving street crime merely because the city and state are failing to curb the crime rate?  It is true that federal criminal law offers an expansive role for the Feds in this regard, but a more expensive role for the federal government is not something that conservatives and Republicans have typically defended, preferring instead that most criminal law enforcement be done at the state and local levels.  I can’t imagine intellectually honest conservatives going along with the idea of a wholesale federalization of criminal law enforcement in a major American city.

So if the President simply means ensuring a federal role in cooperation with the city and state role, then I must ask again: how is that different from the existing situation?

The President’s Tweet therefore raise two distinct questions.  First, is he even aware of, or does he understand, the rather extensive law enforcement role of the federal government in Chicago already?  And second, how does he envision the federal role there – or in other cities – in the scheme of constitutional federalism?

Unlike others who have been critical of the President’s focus on crime, I applaud the President for tackling this issue at a time when “criminal justice reform” rhetoric has often obscured a discussion of the need for aggressive approaches to criminal violence (including gun violence and drug trafficking, two things that often go together and that are plaguing Chicago).  And there is no question that the federal criminal law provides legal mechanisms for an aggressive federal approach to the kinds of violent crime that Chicago has been experiencing.  But those mechanisms are already at work in Chicago.  Maybe they should be even more robust.  But perhaps the President could be clearer about his federal prosecutorial priorities and his understanding of the Constitution’s limits on enforcing them.

Transgender killing results in federal hate crime conviction

Several of my recent posts have addressed issues related to hate crimes.  Obviously, the Roof conviction and upcoming federal death penalty hearing has made that case the leading hate crime story nationally of late.  But it seems helpful to note the latest hate crime story of interest, also from the deep South.  Like others, it raises important questions about the federal role in prosecuting violent crimes committed with a bias-motivation.  As the Justice Department announced here, a Mississippi man yesterday pleaded guilty to brutally killing his former romantic partner because she was transgender, and in order to avoid the wrath of a violent street gang.

According to the DOJ and the defendant’s statements at the plea hearing, Joshua Vallum had been dating Mercedes Williamson, then 17.  Vallum knew that Williamson was transgender but he kept this a secret from his family and friends.  Vallum was also a member of the Latin Kings.  The relationship ended and for about nine months, Vallum had no contact with Williamson.  Vallum learned, however, that one of his friends found out that Williamson was transgender.  Believing that he would be harmed if the Latin Kings also discovered that he had been dating a transgender person (the gang has strict rules about homosexuality, and Williamson’s birth gender was male), Vallum decided to kill Williamson.

After driving her from Alabama to Mississippi, he shocked her with a stun gun, and stabbed her repeatedly with a pocket knife.  Williamson was able to escape from the car where Vallum had stabbed her, but Vallum gave chase and stabbed her again in the head (he believed he had “hit brain”).  Although Williamson was still able to stumble into some woods, Vallum again caught up to her and hit her repeatedly with a hammer, killing her.

This case gained special national prominence after Caitlyn Jenner remembered Williamson during Jenner’s 2015 speech at the ESPY awards.

Vallum had already been convicted in Mississippi state court of murder and received a life sentence.  But, as has been true in other cases, the Feds believed that it was necessary to pursue a federal prosecution because Mississippi does not have a hate crimes statute for which gender identity is a protected category.  Thus, in the language of both the relevant statute (the Shepard-Byrd Act, 18 U.S.C. 249) and the DOJ’s Petite Policy, the state prosecution left the specific federal interest “unvindicated.”  It is an open question whether the Trump Administration will take a similar view of how federal interests become vindicated by state prosecutions.

Vallum now faces another life sentence, this time in the federal system.  As I have discussed elsewhere, there is no death penalty under the Shepard-Byrd Act, though I believe this case and others demonstrate why there ought to at least be that option for federal juries in section 249 cases involving brutal killings like this one.

But that raises another question: why not also charge Vallum with murder in aid of racketeering (18 U.S.C. 1959)?  The VICAR statute reaches murder committed for the purpose of “maintaining or increasing position” in a racketeering enterprise.  If the Government’s theory is that Vallum killed Williamson not simply to avoid harm by the Latin Kings (surely a “racketeering enterprise” as defined in VICAR), but in order to remain a member of the Latin Kings, then this would seem to provide sufficient evidence to charge the VICAR offense.  That is notable because a killing under VICAR – unlike the Shepard-Byrd Act – does permit the death penalty.

I have not seen the Vallum indictment.  Perhaps it does contain a VICAR charge, and that charge was dismissed as part of the plea agreement to the hate crime.  If it was not included, perhaps the theory would be that Vallum committed the killing not on behalf of the Latin Kings, or because of a desire to maintain his position in the Latin Kings, but only because of Williamson’s gender identity and his fear of the gang’s enforcement.  But it seems hard to neatly separate his killing of Williamson on account of her gender identity from his interest in maintaining a place within the gang – arguably, he did one to preserve the other.  And that is precisely what VICAR forbids.

Finally, because this prosecution was based on section 249(a)(2), which is justified only under the Commerce Clause, there is a reasonable question as to whether the federal government properly had jurisdiction in the case.  But the statute easily answers that problem, at least as a matter of statutory application.  It specifically permits federal jurisdiction where there was travel across state lines, see 18 U.S.C. 249(a)(2)(B)(i)(I), and that was the case here.  Perhaps Vallum could have argued that the travel from Alabama to Mississippi was too attenuated from the killing to be justified under the Commerce Clause, but I doubt such an argument would go very far.  The statute also permits federal jurisdiction where the defendant uses a dangerous weapon or other weapon that has traveled in interstate commerce, or where the defendant used a “channel, facility, or instrumentality” of commerce “in connection with” the prohibited conduct, or where the prohibited conduct otherwise affects commerce.  See 18 U.S.C. 249(a)(2)(B)(ii)-(iv).

Still, in a different case, depending upon the facts, it could make sense to question whether some of these jurisdictional elements are enough to satisfy the Commerce Clause.  Watch for a hate crime case presenting a viable challenge to the jurisdictional element and the scope of congressional power.

Mistrial in Slager state prosecution

In previous posts, I have noted the Michael Slager case out of South Carolina.  See, e.g., here.  Slager is the North Charleston Police officer who was recorded shooting and killing a man named Walter Scott, who had been the subject of a traffic stop and who was seen running away from Slager.  Slager argues that he shot in self-defense.  Scott was African-American, Slager is white, and the case received extensive attention nationally.  Today, a state trial court judge in South Carolina declared a mistrial in Slager’s case.  CNN story here.  On Friday, a single juror sent the judge a note saying that the juror “could not in good conscience” convict Slager.  The jury was deadlocked through the weekend, culminating in today’s declaration of a mistrial.  It is possible that multiple jurors became holdouts.

Two quick reactions.  First, I think it likely–a virtual certainty–that South Carolina will retry Slager.  Second, recall that Slager is also facing federal criminal charges, including depriving Scott of his civil rights and use of a firearm during a crime of violence.  The United States is not seeking the death penalty.

I am often asked why, if the State is pursuing serious charges against someone, the Feds would essentially duplicate the charges and spend time and taxpayer money on an indictment, pre-trial proceedings, and trial.  That problem becomes even more perplexing, on the surface, when the State case is a very strong one.  The answer to that question consists of several factors, but the Slager case is Exhibit A as to why the Feds decide to move in a case like this: first, there is a substantial federal interest here with respect to the enforcement of laws against violating someone’s constitutional rights; and second, you just never know what will happen in the State case.

Until Slager is convicted in State court, the federal interest (which seems undeniable) remains unvindicated.

 

Hate crime prosecutions in the new administration

A story out of West Virginia this past week reminded me of an issue that has arisen with respect to the Trump Justice Department, and, in particular, the President-Elect-to-be’s choice for Attorney General.  According to local and national news reports, a 62-year-old man has been accused of murder under West Virginia law, after he shot and killed a 15-year-old boy.  Police say that William Pulliam, who is white, shot James Means, who is African-American, after the two bumped into each other outside of a store near Charleston. Reports say that Pulliam shot Means, then had dinner and visited a friend’s home, where a firearm was found.  Pulliam claims the killing was self-defense.  Now, the United States Attorneys Office confirms it is involved in the case, investigating whether the killing might be a federal hate crime.

There is consternation among many critics of both Trump and Senator Jeff Sessions, who Trump has tapped for AG.  One of the major criticisms of a Sessions-led Justice Department, it is said, is that the DOJ will not make civil rights cases a priority.  That, presumably, could include weak enforcement of the federal hate crimes law. The Pulliam case could be an early test of this theory for the Trump DOJ.

Still, I wonder whether this particular criticism is overstated.  While I think it likely that the new administration’s Civil Rights Division will take a much different view of some civil rights matters (e.g., voting) than the current Civil Rights Division, it is also likely that a Trump Justice Department will make violent crime an enforcement priority.  Federal hate crimes under the Hate Crime Prevention Act are, by definition, violent crimes.  The Shepard-Byrd Act requires that the defendant either willfully cause bodily injury or – through use of fire, firearm, dangerous weapon, explosive or incendiary device – attempt to cause bodily injury. 18 U.S.C. 249.  Because of the double mens rea (that the act be done willfully and that it be done because of certain kinds of animus), the defendant’s state of mind is often the contested issue in the case.  I suspect that will be the issue in the Pulliam case, as well, as there seems to be no question that he used a firearm to kill Means (though there remains the issue of justification).

If the Sessions DOJ makes violent crime an enforcement priority (as I suspect it will, and should), then there is little reason to think that it will categorically refuse to enforce the Shepard-Byrd hate crimes law.  Of course, there remains the question of whether the DOJ should prosecute in cases where the state is also prosecuting, or whether the alleged act involves the kind of animus required by the statute, but those are already barriers to enforcement now.  Neither is a sticking point unique to the Trump Administration.

It is also worth noting that during the debate on the hate crimes bill, Senator Sessions proposed an amendment that would have allowed the death penalty for certain hate crimes resulting in the death of the victim.  Though some described the Sessions Amendment as a poison pill, there were – and remain – considerable arguments for making a hate crime that results in death a capital offense.  Several other criminal statutes relating to civil rights already provide for capital punishment.

There has been an understandable sensitivity to bigotry in the wake of the presidential campaign and the election.  But not every act of bigotry is a federal hate crime, detestable as the act may be.  Merely shouting offensive words, for example, is not a violation of section 249.  The statute requires a highly culpable mental state, combined with personal animus, combined with the infliction or attempted infliction of bodily injury.  And until Congress broadens the law, every Administration – Republican or Democrat – must wrestle with the limits on its enforcement.  Of course, hate crimes may also be prosecuted under Section 245, but again, there are limits: that statute’s narrow hate crime provisions are limited to injury, intimidation, or interference based only on race, color, religion, or national origin, and only with respect to certain federally protected activities.

Still, the new Trump Justice Department could help allay some of the public’s concerns if it demonstrates a proper appreciation for the virtues of the Shepard-Byrd Act, the federally protected activities statute, and the idea of treating animus-based violence as a particularly insidious form of criminality.  I am hopeful that an Attorney General Sessions and his Civil Rights Division will enforce it, sensibly, as part of a wider policy that both attacks violent crime and sustains the Department’s tradition of defending civil rights.