Vices
are those acts by which a man harms himself or his property.
Crimes
are those acts by which one man harms the person or property of
another.
Vices
are simply the errors which a man makes in his search after his
own happiness. Unlike crimes, they imply no malice toward others,
and no interference with their persons or property.
In vices,
the very essence of crime – that is, the design to injure the
person or property of another – is wanting. It is a maxim of the
law that there can be no crime without criminal intent; that is,
without the intent to invade the person or property of another....
Unless
this clear distinction between vices and crimes be made and recognized
by the laws, there can be on earth no such thing as individual
right, liberty, or property.... For a government to declare a
vice to be a crime, and to punish it as such, is an attempt to
falsify the very nature of things. It is as absurd as it would
be to declare truth to be a falsehood, or falsehood truth.
The police
obtained a search warrant claiming they had evidence connecting
the Carlota family and its home to Erasmo Ruiz Villarreal, who was
wanted for a home invasion robbery a few nights earlier. At the
beginning of the raid, SWAT operators threw a flash-bang device
– a grenade that carries a potentially lethal charge, and has incendiary
effects – into a bedroom. The grenade is marked with a warning that
it is not to be “deployed” on flammable objects, such as bedding.
So it's not surprising that the bed caught on fire.
The
purpose of using a “diversionary” grenade is to “disorient” the
target. In this case, the target – the criminal suspect – wasn't
on the premises. Salvador
Celaya, a 73-year-old man who suffers from Alzheimer's disease,
was already quite disoriented by the raid: Not knowing that the
armed assailants were police, he armed himself with a .22 revolver
and began shooting.
One would think
that the heroes of the SWAT team – swaddled in protective armor,
bearing ballistic shields, and packing very large caliber weapons
– would be able to withstand such a withering barrage from a small-caliber
weapon and be able to subdue a confused 73-year-old man without
killing him or destroying his home.
One would think
so. One would be wrong.
According to
the police report, it was Salvador, not the SWAT team, who was responsible
for the fire that gutted his home. The police insisted that Salvador's
“decision to arm himself with a gun forced them to implement safety
precautions that prevented them from putting the fire out.”
This is a standard
element of every SWAT raid: Officer safety über alles. But
the fire wouldn't have ignited if the police had followed correct
“safety precautions” before the grenade had been flung into
the bedroom.
The Celayas
immigrated to the United States 45 years ago; he worked as a mechanic,
she labored as a seamstress. Through frugal living they acquired
enough money to buy the home that was destroyed in the raid – an
event for which the police department accepts no responsibility.
“This is not
a botched raid,” sniffed Gilbert P.D. Spokesdrone Lt. Joe Ruet as
the debris was still smoldering. “It's not the wrong house, and
it's a very serious criminal that we're after.”
Well, that
“very serious criminal” wasn't there, and neither were any of the
stolen items – including $7,000 in cash, consumer electronics, a
pit bull, and rims from a Cadillac Escalade, at least some of which
would have survived a fire – that were listed on the search warrant.
So it was the "wrong house," and an innocent couple was deprived
of their home for nothing. Wouldn't this fit the description of
a “botched raid”?
As I noted
earlier: This was a crime – an immensely destructive act of negligence
that deprived an elderly couple of the product of their lifetime
labors. By refusing to accept its moral responsibility to the Celayas,
the Gilbert PD has compounded culpable negligence with active malice.
The Celayas
are preparing to sue the city for $750,000, which most likely
means that the local taxpayers – rather than the guilty officials
– will
pay for the crime committed against that family.
For at least
part of his time in the State Prison in Florence, Cisneros was sleeping
outdoors in 100-degree heat. He suffers from “prostate cancer, diabetes,
pulmonary hypertension, sleep apnea, shingles, dizziness, and shortness
of breath,” reports the Phoenix New Times. Most of those
afflictions can kill him. Unless action is taken to commute his
three-year sentence, Cisneros will die in prison. In fact, the State
may quietly accelerate that process, given that it will cost at
least $65,000 to provide Cisneros with medical care for each year
he's imprisoned. And he has committed no crimes against persons
or property.
A few weeks
ago, he was sentenced to three years in prison on a felony DUI conviction
handed down in absentia nine years ago.
In 1993, Cisneros
lost his first wife Lucy to Alzheimer's disease. The stress of caring
for his invalid wife apparently drove him to the bottle. Between
1989 and 1992, he was busted for DUIs four times. After Lucy died,
Cisneros sobered up. He met another wonderful woman also named Lucy
and remarried, much to the delight of his five children and fifteen
grandchildren.
And then both
he and his second Lucy were diagnosed with cancer. This apparently
drove him back to drinking, and in 1998 he was arrested for rolling
through a stop sign on his way home from a bar. A canny DUI lawyer
could likely have worked out a deal that didn't involve time behind
bars, but Cisneros never showed up for the trial. Gila County Prosecutor
Daisy Flores, whose surname should be “Nettles” rather than “Flowers,”
insists that Cisneros made a conscious attempt to avoid punishment.
However, according
to everyone who knows him, Cisneros has made no effort to hide himself
from the police, who for their part made no effort to bring him
in. Furthermore, Phil has let Lucy do all the driving. She was behind
the wheel a few months ago when the couple was returning from a
dental appointment in Mexico. Border Guards detained the couple
and arrested Phil on the nine-year-old conviction.
According to
Flores, her office has actually exercised clemency by “forgiving”
one of Cisneros's prior convictions and imprisoning him for merely
three years – which is to say, for life: “[H]e took off for eight
and a half years. I don't feel any pity for him.”
Los
Angeles County Prosecutor Rocky Delgadillo, Paris Hilton's Inspector
Javert, has provided a useful and timely reminder that the most
inflexible prosecutors tend to be the most cavalier about obeying
the laws. With that in mind, someone should rummage around in Daisy
Flores's background and find out what un-addressed infractions and
petty crimes litter the record of that pitiless little shrike.
Gila
County Judge Robert Duber has displayed a similar gift for compassion
and proportionality: During the trial, confronted with letters from
65 friends and relatives urging leniency, the Judge sneered that
he saw 65 “co-conspirators” who had concealed Cisneros rather than
clicking their heels and surrendering him to the State.
Duber's reaction
when told that Cisneros suffers from several terminal afflictions
displays a similar human touch: “The entire jail system is full
of people who have very bad health problems.”
Like Phil Cisneros,
my father is 83 years old, and like myself he doesn't drink, smoke,
or engage in any similar vices (although both of us have a weakness
for soda, which is a much bigger health
risk than, say,
smoking marijuana,
something I neither do nor recommend).
To Robert Duber
II, I offer this observation just by way of useful advice:
If some preening,
overfed, tax-devouring chair-polluter who wears a dress to work
sent my elderly father to die in prison for a non-violent offense,
I would be severely tempted to track that “judge” down and curb-stomp
his ugly, arrogant face. Permanent disfigurement would be a condign
punishment for a judicial crime of that sort.
Yes, I believe
in the non-aggression principle. But the death sentence Duber inflicted
on Phil Cisneros was an act of aggression against someone whose
behavior – once the key distinctions are understood – was a vice,
not a crime.
“But isn't
driving while intoxicated a crime?” I hear someone asking – most
likely my Past Self, who believed as much until quite recently.
My thinking on the subject has changed, in large measure because
of these wise
insights offered by Thomas Fleming:
“We have to
give up such pernicious folly as the delusion that in locking up
a DUI offender we are protecting the public.... Just as the state
does not exist to make people virtuous, the criminal justice system
does not exist to protect the public but to punish criminals once
they have committed a crime.... [T]o punish a DUI offender who has
not harmed anyone is to punish a physical or moral condition. Adultery
in the heart may be as sinful as one carried out, but we punish
the act and not the state of mind.... These blood-alcohol crimes
are the equivalent of thought-crimes.”
The assumption
here is that people who occasionally become intoxicated on alcohol
cannot be trusted to operate their own cars – just as it's supposedly
just to deprive Phil Cisneros of what little time he has left to
enjoy the company of his grandchildren and terminally ill wife because
of a nine-year-old DUI conviction.
And meanwhile,
power-intoxicated Judges who needlessly tear long-suffering families
asunder, and SWAT operators who leave innocent elderly people homeless
and destitute, are free to visit such misery on others.
Such is the
state of affairs in the state that gave us Barry Goldwater.