The Law of Monster Crossovers

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October 13, 2018

Frankenstein Meets the Wolfman is the first time movie characters had a crossover event in a connected universe. The film brought to life many legal issues that attorneys have howled over for decades.

Grave Robbing

Lawrence Talbot was dead at the end of The Wolfman. Frankenstein Meets the Wolfman begins with two men who entered the Talbot family tomb and opened Lawrence’s crypt four years after his death to steal cash, a ring, and his watch off his body. This is the literal definition of “grave robbing,” but with a few historical twists.

19^th Century cases pertaining to “grave robbing” centered on the removal of a body with the purpose of selling the remains for medical experimentation. State v. Baker, 46 S.W. 194 (Mo. 1898). In the case of Lawrence Talbot, the robbers clearly trespassed into the crypt with the intention of committing a crime, but it would not be the “ancient” view of grave robbing. These older laws would clearly prohibit the conduct of any of the Dr. Frankenstein’s who dug up bodies for experiments.

Modern laws clearly prohibit the conduct of the men who tried to “rob” a dead body. Idaho prohibits the desecration of a place of burial. Idaho Code § 18-7027. Entering the tomb and opening the crypt would qualify as desecrating the grave of Lawrence Talbot. Nevada specifically includes that anyone who removes an article interred with a body is guilty of a felony. Nev. Rev. Stat. Ann. § 451.030. Talbot’s watch, ring, and cash, were clearly intended to be interred with his corpse, as those items were buried with him.

While the two grave robbers did not have their day in court, they did suffer extra-judicial punishment from a reanimated corpse that turned into a wolf.

Police Led Mobs

After a distraught father named Vazec carried his dead daughter killed by the Wolfman to the town square of Vasaria, the public response was to form a mob led by the chief of police. The angry mob quickly found Maleva, who was racially profiled as a Gypsy. She was told to “speak up, Old Witch,” and suffered other indignities.

The angry villagers chasing after the Wolfman were at best an “unlawful assembly,” which is when two or more people do “an unlawful act, or do a lawful act in a violent, boisterous, or tumultuous manner, such assembly is an unlawful assembly.” Cal. Penal Code § 407. The plausible argument for unlawful assembly is the villagers were seeking a dangerous animal that killed a human being, yet were doing so in a violent manner.

The villagers pursuing the Wolfman could arguably be a riot, which is when there is any “use of force or violence, disturbing the public peace, or any threat to use force or violence, if accompanied by immediate power of execution, by two or more persons acting together, and without authority of law, is a riot.” Cal. Penal Code § 404. There is an argument that the villagers were acting under the authority of the police. Moreover, in times of public calamity, a governor could call for volunteers to act in an unorganized militia. Cal. Mil. & Vet. Code § 128. There is a colorable, but not strong, argument the mayor did call for volunteers and the villagers acted as an unorganized militia in response to the “public calamity” of a wolf that had killed a girl was now stalking villagers.

There were multiple instances of riots being urged and those calling for a riot could be prosecuted. Cal. Penal Code § 404.6. Moreover, when two or more people make any attempt to riot if they had actually committed the act, they could be prosecuted for committing a “rout.” Cal. Penal Code § 406. Naturally, the crimes of urging riot and rout were committed in the town bar by individuals drinking alcohol.

Medical Ethics of Murder and Assisted Suicide

Dr. Mannering agreed to help the villagers by killing Frankenstein’s Creature with science. After reviewing the diary of Dr. Frankenstein, Mannering agreed to help Larry Talbot commit suicide.

That….is really problematic for a doctor. The Hippocratic Oath states to “do no harm” and that a doctor will not “administer a poison to anyone when asked to do so nor will I suggest such a course.” Thorburn v. Dep’t of Corr., 78 Cal. Rptr. 2d 584, 588 n.6 (Ct. App. 1998), citing The Oath of Hippocrates, as quoted in AMA Council Rep., supra, 270 JAMA 365. Medical ethics stated that doctors participating in state-ordered executions violation their duties as doctors. Id. In the case of Dr. Mannering, this is doubly problematic, because he is helping Talbot kill himself and a “promise” to kill Frankenstein’s Creature.

California has an “End of Life” law that allows for a person with a terminal disease who has mental capacity to request a prescription for them to self-administer an aid-in-dying drug if they meet residency requirements. Health and Safety Code § 443.2. Residency requirement aside, Talbot does not meet the requirement of having a terminal disease. If anything, the cruse of the werewolf brought Talbot back from the DEAD, so it is difficult to call it a “terminal illness.” Turning into a werewolf is a horrible physical condition, but not one that could be called “terminal.”

There is a new law that goes into effect on January 1, 2019 that makes it a felony to deliberately aid, advise, or encourage another to commit suicide. Cal Pen Code § 401. Dr. Mannering, Baroness Elsa Frankenstein, and Maleva, all aided in Talbot’s goal to commit suicide. While the plan was unsuccessful, Dr. Mannering violated medical ethics and engaged in conduct that would be a felony.

The issue of Frankenstein’s Creature is more black and white: Murder is the unlawful killing of a human being, or a fetus, with malice aforethought. Cal. Penal Code § 187. Draining all of the life out of the Creature would have been murder, if Dr. Mannering had gone through with it. Instead the doctor could not resist going all “mad scientist” and opted to make the Creature stronger.

Domestic Terrorism

Vazec sought revenge on Talbot, Dr. Mannering, Baroness Elsa Frankenstein, Maleva, and the Creature for the death of his daughter. His logic was not based on reason, but prejudice. In order to kill everyone at Castle Frankenstein, Vazec decided to blow up the dam that provided hydro-electric power to the castle and flood the area.

Domestic terrorism is any act that is dangerous to human life that is in violation of the law. 18 U.S.C.S. § 2331(5)(A). Blowing up dams is not like parking illegally. Society cannot survive when individuals leverage self-help remedies for their grievances. Blowing up a dam to murder multiple people is a reckless action that could endanger the lives of everyone in the town. While the death of Vazec’s daughter was tragic, murdering multiple people would not bring her back.

The Monster Squad

Frankenstein Meets the Wolfman is the first time two Universal Monsters crossed over into one film. It is heavily “Wolfman 2” with Frankenstein’s Creature as a guest star. Lon Chaney Jr does a masterfully performance as someone suffering from a horrible condition who is riddled with guilt. For an in depth discussion of the film, please listen to the podcast with Matt Weinhold from Monster Party, available below.

We Have the Best Empire that Coaxium Can Buy

By

Christine Peek

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October 12, 2018

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Consider the purrgil. Naturally self-sufficient space travelers, these majestic creatures metabolize their own hyperfuel by gulping down huge quantities of Clouzon-36 gas. Unfortunately for the humanoids of Solo: A Star Wars Story, obtaining useable hyperfuel requires considerably more effort. In the Imperial Era, coaxium has the power both to liberate and to enslave, and it is coveted by Imperials and Rebels alike. Nearly all of the characters sustain heavy losses from their efforts to profit from this valuable and extremely volatile substance.

Qi’ra’s bid for freedom is just one of many such sacrifices. Without Imperial identity chips, she and Han had no access to the usual means of travel to and from Corellia, their faded industrial homeworld. Short on time to strategize, and on the run from a criminal gang, the White Worms, they attempt to buy their way off the planet by bribing Imperial emigration officer Falthina Sharest. What could go wrong?

A lot, as it turns out. Although the two “unauthorized travelers” correctly peg the overworked and underpaid Sharest as a willing mark, they fail to make it through the gate before members of the White Worms catch up to Qi’ra. Cornered, Sharest has to make a show of doing her actual job. She sounds the alarm, cutting off Qi’ra’s chance at freedom and diverting the Stormtroopers’ attention away from the vial of coaxium she just pocketed.

What legal consequences did Sharest risk by taking the coaxium in exchange for allowing unauthorized travel off of Corellia? Let’s explore.

Criminal Conviction and Lengthy Imprisonment

Assuming Imperial law is similar to U.S. federal criminal law, Sharest risked being convicted of a felony offense if her actions were discovered. Conviction would most likely result in a significant prison term, up to 15 years. Exactly how long depends on how the court exercises its discretion to apply the Federal Sentencing Guidelines.

To get a conviction under 18 U.S.C. § 201(b)(2), the federal statute prohibiting officials from accepting bribes, the government must prove the following elements:

(1) The defendant is a “public official” within the meaning of this section;

(2) The defendant demanded, sought, received, accepted, or agreed to receive or accept anything of value personally or for any other person or entity; and

(3) The defendant did so specifically for one of the corrupt purposes identified in the statute. As relevant here, these could include either, “(A) being influenced in the performance of any official act;” or “(C) being induced to do or omit to do any act in violation of the official duty of such official or person[.]”

Here, all three elements are easily satisfied. A “public official” includes any officer, employee, or person “acting for or on behalf of the United States, or any department, agency or branch of Government thereof[.]” Assuming an equivalent Imperial definition, Lead Transport Security Officer Sharest clearly qualifies. See Becharias v. United States, 208 F. 143, 143-44 (7th Cir. 1913) (immigration inspector is a public official). She agrees to accept and actually accepts the coaxium, which is worth “five, six hundred credits,” “at least seven hundred credits,” or “at least eight hundred credits” – give or take. She appears to have a duty to deny passage to those without Imperial identity chips, which she violates by agreeing to allow Han and Qi’ra through the gate in exchange for the coaxium. The only real question would be the length of her prison sentence.

The Sentencing Guidelines assign sentencing ranges using 43 different levels. The higher the level, the more severe the offense. Under the Guidelines, the base offense level for bribery when the defendant is a public official is 14. Assuming Sharest had no prior criminal history, this would put her in Sentencing Zone D with a range of 15 to 21 months.

However, the base level can be adjusted up or down according to various mitigating and aggravating factors. Of concern for Sharest is whether her base offense level could be increased by 4 if she were determined to be “in a high-level decision-making or sensitive position,” meaning a position “characterized by a direct authority to make decisions for, or on behalf of, a government department, agency, or other government entity, or by a substantial influence over the decision-making process.” See Commentary, U.S. Sentencing Guidelines Manual § 2C1.1 (2016). Here, Sharest has at least some discretion to decide who is allowed to travel and who is not. See U.S. v. Reneslacis, 349 F.3d 412, 416 (7th Cir. 2003) (although officer “did not have a particularly lofty position within the INS, he did hold a sensitive post”). This would increase her base range to 27 to 33 months – not the kind of “leveling up” Sharest wants.

This is just one example – Sharest could certainly face other government efforts to increase her base offense level. In addition to being fined and incarcerated, Sharest may be disqualified from holding “any office of honor, trust, or profit” if convicted. See 18 U.S.C. § 201(b).

Could Han and Qi’ra face prosecution under this same statute? Of course. Section 201(b)(1) of Title 18 criminalizes giving, offering, or promising anything of value to a public official for the same corrupt purposes identified above. But, the potential 15-year sentence pales in comparison to the potential death sentence Han would face for desertion during wartime. See UCMJ, Art. 85, 10 U.S.C. § 885. And the idea that Crimson Dawn would simply hand over one of its top lieutenants to face imperial charges? I’m not very optimistic about those odds.

Additional Charges for Sale of Stolen Goods

Sharest’s willingness to take the coaxium suggests she probably knows someone who can fence it for her. Actually selling it to a fence could land her in hot water again. Sale of stolen goods worth more than $5000 is a felony where the stolen goods have crossed a state or United States boundary and are known to be stolen. See 18 U.S.C. § 2315.

A single vial of coaxium valued at 500-800 credits may not be enough to meet the federal statutory minimum, even assuming a relatively generous exchange rate of $1.50 per credit. Nevertheless, if Corellian law were similar to California law, the receipt or sale of stolen property still may be punished under the Corellian equivalent of California Penal Code section 496.

Section 496 makes sale of property known to be stolen a “wobbler,” meaning it can be charged either as a felony or a misdemeanor. Here again, the value of the coaxium may come into play, as the statute provides that if the property’s value does not exceed $950, the offense is a misdemeanor, provided the defendant has no disqualifying prior convictions.

Though Sharest may argue she didn’t know Han stole the coaxium from the White Worms, knowledge may be inferred from the circumstances, and Sharest witnessed two members of the White Worms grab Qi’ra and drag her away. And presumably, it is common knowledge that the White Worms are a criminal gang, who likely did not come by the coaxium through legitimate means. All things considered, life on Corellia must be dismal indeed for Sharest to risk her liberty, her position, and possibly her life (at the hands of the White Worms), to squeeze a relatively modest amount of extra credits out of a pair of orphan scrumrats.

Theft of Imperial AT Hauler

By

Jordon Huppert

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October 2, 2018

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Solo: A Star Wars Story is full of crimes and capers, mystery and intrigue, basically everything you could want in a space western (except maybe a long brown coat or a story that’s as compelling as the Han Solo Trilogy of books (if you haven’t read them go pick them up, starts with Paradise Snare)). While the move is very good about showing the planning and plotting of the crew’s crimes, it’s not great about showing the consequences of what would have happened if they’re caught (though this article is largely spoiler free for Solo, I suppose it could be a spoiler that the crew does not get prosecuted through the Imperial Justice System.) (Also, this is my last parenthetical in this article, promise).

First, a brief and largely spoiler free story recap. After some adventures on his home planet of Corellia, Han has found himself on the Planet Mimban as part of the Imperial Infantry. There he meets a thief named Tobias Beckett who steals an Imperial AT-Hauler as part of a larger crime that we won’t go into. Taking an alternate from the movie track let’s say that Beckett and crew are caught at this point and put on trial by the Imperial Inspectorate, prosecuted by –let’s say- Captain Magna Tolvan. Captain Tolvan has a long list of charges she could bring against the crew. The choice of charging them individually or as co-defendants, or under something like RICO is beyond the scope of this article so let’s just assume that the entire crew is charged with the same crimes. Let’s also assume that we’re looking at the US Uniform Code of Military Justice (UCMJ) since it’s likely that the Imperial Navy would have some very similar code. The Crew’s Indictment might look a little something like this (charges in no particular order)(yes, I lied about that being my last parenthetical):

Count 1) Fraudulent enlistment, appointment, or separation: Beckett did produce his own enlistment or appointment in the Imperial Navy by knowingly false representation or deliberate concealment as to his qualifications for that enlistment or appointment and receives pay or allowances there under. UCMJ Art. 43, 10 USC 883.

Count 2) Loss, Damage, or Wrongful Disposition of Military Property of the Imperial Navy: Beckett and team, without proper authority, willfully or through neglect damaged, destroyed, or lost military property of the Imperial Navy. UCMJ Art. 108, 10 USC 908.

Count 3) Larceny and Wrongful Appropriation: Beckett and team did wrongfully take, obtain, or withhold, by any means, from the possession of the owner of any other kind of person, any money personal property, or article of value of any kind- with the intent permanently to deprive or defraud another person of the use and benefit of property or to appropriate it to his own use or the use of any person other than the owner, steals that property.

Count 4) Mutiny or Sedition: Beckett and crew did, with the intent to usurp or override lawful military authority, created violence or disturbance. Art. 94 Mutiny or Sedition, 10 USC 894

So, that’s where they might start with Beckett and crew. From there the process would like a normal court procedure. The prosecutor, Tolvan, would bring the charges. Beckett and crew would each get separate attorneys and decide how they each wanted to proceed. There might be deals made, Tolvan might try to get Han or Rio to testify against Beckett in exchange for a lenient deal. Given that the penalty for mutiny is death there is plenty of leverage for Tolvan to utilize when dealing with the crew. This assumes that she is more interested in Beckett as the boss. Ultimately, we end up at a court-martial. For this articles purposes it makes sense to think of a court-martial as a trial, though they don’t have what we commonly think of as a jury. The process is in essence the same as a trial, a prosecutor puts on evidence to prove the defendant(s) guilty and their attorney gets to put on a defense.

Since we’ve all seen the movie (or don’t want to read my rehash of the scene) we can assume that Tolvan manages to get her conviction and we move on to the penalty phase. The penalties at a court-martial can run the gamut from a formal reprimand, to being dishonorably discharged, to imprisonment and fines. At least for counts 1, 2, and 3. Count 4 on the other hand… well if Beckett is convicted of mutiny then the sentence can be anything including death. Since we never see the Empire being lenient with its prisoners (they tortured and were going to execute Leia), things are not looking up for Beckett.

An aside: it is also possible that Beckett and company could be tried as civilians for theft and something along the lines of disorderly conduct/creating a disturbance, but that’s not as much fun. Plus, since they seem to have falsely enlisted in the Imperial Forces they probably have it coming.

Elementary: Sherlock Holmes and the Mystery of Missing Due Process

By

Caesar Kalinowski IV

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September 20, 2018

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Feature — Pictured (L-R) Jonny Lee Miller as Sherlock Holmes and Lucy Liu as Watson of the CBS series ELEMENTARY, premiering for a fourth season on Thursday, Nov. 5 10:00-11:00 PM ET/PT. Photo: Justin Stephens/CBS ÃÂ© 2014 CBS Broadcasting Inc. All Rights Reserved.

“What one man can invent another can discover.” Sherlock Holmes, The Adventure of the Dancing Man

Normally I don’t write negative pieces about shows, but I have been stewing since the Sherlock Holmes-but-updated show Elementary aired “Uncanny Valley of the Dolls” last month. Ever since I spent a summer reading through the Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s collected works, I have loved Sherlock Holmes. Elementary is meant to be a new take on the cocaine-addicted sleuth, managing some decent story lines but not adding to the character much beyond what we’ve already seen in the BBC and Guy Ritchie versions. My biggest complaint regarding Elementary, however, is Sherlock and Joan Watson’s consistent disregard for due process. Whether it’s accusing literally everyone of murder (attorney request be damned) or picking locks to illegally break into private property multiple times, the show focuses less on intellectual investigative skills and more on clean, east-to-digest stories.

But what does that have to do with sci-fi you might ask? Well, in “Uncanny Valley of the Dolls,” Sherlock and Co. set out to solve the murder of a sex robot designer who previously headed secret research into real-life teleportation. Gasp! After finding out that last fact, a minor character announces that he was offered (and paid a whole $1000 for) copies of the top secret research. Throwing around some law regarding the Invention Secrecy Act, the detectives surmise that (1) the information was leaked so that the perpetrator could cash in on the research and avoid the Act and a non-disclosure agreement, and (2) the victim was murdered in the presence of his sex robot.

“Sure Sherlock, you might be a world renowned detective and genius, but let me play this old Star Trek episode to explain teleportation.”

Following the deus ex machina discovery of a song recorded by the sex robot that is somehow perceived (correctly!) to be the perpetrator’s cell phone ringtone, see Anita Ward, Ring My Bell (Juana Records 1979), the detectives trot in three minor characters for “interviewing.” Proceeding to call the first suspect’s phone, which plays the song, they announce the killer and everyone is satisfied that the murder has been solved and a conviction is all but guaranteed. Hold up, what? Not even the mildly appeasing “Ya got me this time, copper!” full-blown confession after being shown some absolutely circumstantial evidence? Well, while CBS and Elementary may not take their time researching the legal issues actually underlying the episode, we will.

The Exclusionary Rule

Aka don’t break into private property to steal evidence.

As previously mentioned, Elementary’s Sherlock and Dr. Watson love to pick locks and break into buildings. While Captain Gregson meagerly explains away these violations as “creative” and usually buttressed by a claim that someone was heard yelling inside, could they actually do this? The answer is no, they totally cannot. Sherlock and Joan are consultants for the NYPD’s Major Crimes Unit. As such, they are acting on behalf of the government when they conduct investigations. So while they don’t have badges, guns, or arresting authority, they do have a responsibility to, you know, abide by the Constitution and proper police investigative procedures.

“The Fourth Amendment assures the ‘right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures.’” Stone v. Powell, 428 U.S. 465, 482 (1976). Because such a provision protects individuals from the government illegally entering and searching one’s home, “[e]vidence obtained by police officers in violation of the Fourth Amendment is excluded at trial[.]” Id. at 492. The Fourth Amendment, however, generally does not protect against unreasonable intrusions by private individuals. Walter v. United States, 447 U.S. 649, 656 (1980). But when the private individual “acted as an ‘instrument’ or agent of the state,” Coolidge v. New Hampshire, 403 U.S. 443, 487 (1971), the exclusionary rule applies and the evidence can be suppressed as “fruit of the poisonous tree.” Nardone v. United States, 308 U.S. 338, 341 (1939). See also United States v. Hardin, 539 F.3d 404 (6th Cir. 2008); United States v. Reed, 15 F.3d 928 (9th Cir. 1994). Because Sherlock and Joan are definitely government agents, anything they find after illegally breaking into private property would be suppressed.

Invention Secrecy Act

Were we supposed to be wowed when they showed us how to “teleport” a chocolate bunny with email and a 3D printer?

In the episode, the perpetrator kills the victim after classified research on real-life teleportation technology (organic-to-digital information transmitter) is leaked. Showing off her obscure federal statute knowledge, Joan makes all sorts of assertions about the effect of the Invention Secrecy Act, 35 U.S.C. § 181 et seq., on the case. So can the government take away your invention and force you to keep quiet? Yea, pretty much. But can you get around the Act by leaking the information? No, definitely not.

After submitting a patent application to the government, if certain federal officers determine that the invention “would be detrimental to the national security, . . . the invention [shall] be kept secret and [the patent office] shall withhold the publication of the application or the grant of a patent for such period as the national interest requires[.]” 35 U.S.C. § 181. But do you agree with Joan and the killer that leaking the research or application would remove the gag order and open the flood gates of profit? Think again. If the invention, application, or applicable research is ever disclosed “by the inventor, his successors, assigns, or legal representatives, or anyone in privity with him or them,” the patent application is held abandoned and the potential windfall is lost. 35 U.S.C. § 182. Furthermore, anyone convicted of leaking said information can “be fined not more than $10,000 or imprisoned for not more than two years, or both.” 35 U.S.C. § 186. See also 18 U.S.C. § 798(a), 793(d). So no, leaking suppressed research does not give one free reign to ignore an order under the Act.

On a related note, the journalist and technology enthusiast featured in the show that attempted to buy the research might also be in choppy waters as well. Under 18 U.S.C. § 793(c), “[w]hoever . . . receives or obtains . . . from any source whatever, any document . . . connected with the national defense,” can be convicted of a felony and “fined under this title or imprisoned not more than ten years.” So while purchasing the secret teleportation research might have seemed like a good idea at the time, I would definitely not risk ten years in federal prison for purportedly secret documents that cost only $1000.

Conclusion

Sherlock Holmes is meant to be an investigative genius, discerning the small forensic details and using logical reasoning to solve crimes. In Elementary, however, we have a shady Sherlock willing to break the law and ignore a suspect’s due process rights. Additionally, this particularly episode hinged its entire theory of motive on a misreading of the Invention Secrecy Act. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, the father of Sherlock Holmes and “fervent advocate of justice,” would not be pleased. Simply put, Sherlock should follow the law and Elementary should do it’s homework.

Random Thoughts:

Captain Gregson even called Sherlock and Joan out for constantly breaking the law in this episode, but shrugged it off as “creative” detective work. It’s not “creative,” it’s criminal.
In the recent episode “Fit to be Tied,” an FBI agent actually told Sherlock to not even joke about “extrajudicial activity,” but Sherlock simply snorted [effectively], “Well, while you’re wasting time, my methods [of illegally breaking and entering] will be getting us real evidence to use.” Sigh.
“Elementary, my dear Watson” is commonly attributed to Sherlock Holmes, however, he never actually said those words. The actual quote (from “The Crooked Man”) is “‘Excellent!’ I cried. ‘Elementary,’ said he.”
In 2014, the Sherlock Holmes character came off copyright, which may account for CBS’s “creative” changes to the character. How about we stick to a version of Sherlock that doesn’t break the law at ever turn?

What are the Civil legal implications of Han’s Street Racing and Reckless Driving at the beginning of the movie Solo?

By

Steve Chu

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September 10, 2018

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Welcome back. Today we have part 2 of our series on whether Han’s high speed driving at the beginning of the movie Solo exposes him to any potential legal problems. In part 1 we examined Han’s potential criminal liability, which could involve Han having to pay a fine, serve jail time, or if certain things happened he could even get the death sentence (Check out Part 1 for more). Today we look at the civil aspect of his potential liability, which could result in Han having to pay money to an injured or aggrieved party.

What do you mean I have to pay monetary damages??

Civil Liability

Even if Han escapes criminal liability, he can still be sued for civil damages by anyone who suffered injury to their person or property as a result of Han’s actions. The difference between Criminal and Civil liability is simply that Criminal law typically implicates one’s liberty by posing the threat of confinement in jail/prison, while Civil liability typically implicates one’s finances because an aggrieved individual can sue another person for money damages. Similar to Criminal law, Civil law provides protection against reckless drivers as well.

Civil Law Principles

One oft quoted rule in civil law is that drivers are permitted to expect that every other person will use reasonable care and not violate the law. California Civil Jury Instructions (“CACI”) 411. With regard to the speed question specifically, the California vehicle code addresses that issue as follows: “no person shall drive a vehicle upon a highway at a speed greater than is reasonable or prudent having due regard for weather, visibility, the traffic on, and the surface and width of, the highway, and in no event at a speed which endangers the safety of persons or property.” Cal. Veh. Code § 22350. Simply put, drivers must not drive so fast that they create a danger to people or property. CACI 706.

Let’s see what she’s got!

If the trooper who falls from the bike suffered some injuries, he might be able to sue Han and argue that Han’s reckless driving caused the injuries. Any bystanders who suffered injuries from the race/chase could also sue. Again, using California state law as a model, such an argument could have at least some merit. Witnesses to the incident would include Han, Q’ira, and the other participants in the chase/race, as well as bystanders who may have seen some of the events. Han would likely argue that any participants who were injured in the race brought it upon themselves due to their own participation in a dangerous activity, namely street racing. However, Han would have a more difficult time making such an argument against a bystander who suffered injuries.

How such a question would be decided would depend upon the judgment of the trier of fact, whether it be a judge or jury. In California state court, such disputes are typically decided by a jury and often involve some allocation of fault between the various parties involved. For example, while it is possible that a jury could find Han 0% at fault, and the injured party 100% at fault, a more common result is for the jury to pin some percentage of fault upon Han, and some fault upon the other party. It is important to note that unless Han has some form of auto insurance available to cover this incident, he may ultimately have to pay out of pocket for any monetary damages that are awarded as a result of the incident.

I was just out for a relaxing drive!

Han’s Potential Civil Exposure

Han could, of course, argue variations on a theme of how he was being pursued by criminals in fear of his life. It is possible that this may help him in a criminal trial, but it would likely not help him as much in a civil trial where the plaintiff is likely to be some innocent bystander who was doing nothing wrong and then suffered injury when Han and his pursuers blasted by. Depending upon how badly the plaintiff is injured, Han could be on the hook for quite a bit of cash, likely enough to pay the debt he will someday owe to Jabba several times over.

Han’s best hope may be to use his smuggler charm and try to somehow convince the jury that he was simply in the wrong place and the wrong time and none of this is really his fault: the blame should all fall upon the other people who were involved in the chase. That would seem to be a longshot, but stranger things have happened. Han could also argue that this was not really a race, but rather it was a scared youth trying to escape a life of criminal servitude from a gang enforcer after assaulting Lady Proxima with sunlight and stealing coaxium.

On the flip side, the Plaintiffs could argue that Han was racing for nothing but glory, and the chance to win a little street cred. In most situations, it would ultimately be up to a jury to decide. In California, at least 12 jurors must be impaneled, though some alternates are typically brought in as well in case a juror has to step down for any reason. 9 out of 12 jurors must vote a certain way in order to reach a civil verdict. So under that legal system, Han would need to convince 9 out of 12 of his peers to believe him. It could happen, but it’s not a sure thing.

Who are you calling Chicken?

Han’s Civil Liability: The Bottom Line

If Han’s high speed driving did injure some people, then Han would likely face an uphill battle to convince a jury that he is not responsible in any way for those injuries. He may be able to argue that some portion of the injuries are not his fault, but it is very likely that most, if not all, of the liability would fall on Han.

Given the potential legal troubles that arise from Han’s participation in the street racing and chase on Corellia, Han would probably have been best served by following the example set by another sometimes hot-headed traveler, Marty McFly from Back to the Future. Marty, after learning from some mistakes, ultimately refuses to take the bait and backs out of a street race challenge at the end of Back to the Future 3. The race challenger, Needles, may also be a distant relation to the Corellia street racing mentor named Needles who Han mentions in passing at one point during the Solo movie. Don’t do it Han, if you can avoid getting into too much trouble, Leia awaits.

Han Solo & The Great Coaxium Heist

By

Thomas Harper

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September 7, 2018

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Solo will soon be released on DVD/Blu-Ray/LaserDisc/Beta Max, which means it’s high time to take another look at our favorite scruffy looking nerf herder’s spectacular entry into the world of scoundreling: the conveyex train heist. Apart from being one of the most fun scenes in any Star Wars movie, Han’s participation in the heist would almost certainly land him in deep bantha poodoo with the Imperial military. We’ve analyzed Han’s legal woes based on 19^th century train robbery laws, but Han’s military service gives him unique and significant added legal exposure beyond what the other members of Beckett’s crew would face.

Beckett’s amended advice: Don’t trust anyone, especially an Imperial Navy Recruiter.

Before diving into the heist itself, it’s worth asking whether the Imperial military would even have jurisdiction to prosecute Han in the first place. After all, Han had walked away from his military unit by that time. Unfortunately for Han, his half-baked exit strategy from military service would not free him from the Empire’s jurisdictional hooks.

At the time Han joined up with Beckett & Friends™, he was still an Imperial soldier. In most real world cases, enlisted soldiers continue serving until their contractual term of service runs out or they are discharged in some other fashion (e.g. medical reasons or for misconduct). Han voluntarily enlisted in the Imperial military, which means he probably had a similar term of service that was not completed when he ran away from Camp Forward (if you were hoping for a more creative Imperial base name, you’re out of luck). That means Han, just like a real soldier, would still be subject to military law even though he no longer wore the fine grey threads of the Imperial Army at the time of the heist.

“Have you ever been to an Imperial court-martial on Mimban? They’re nuts!”

While robbing a normal train is bad enough, Han’s problems are multiplied because he is an Imperial soldier stealing Imperial property. Just like in civilian criminal codes, larceny is a crime under the UCMJ. However, the UCMJ makes a special distinction when military property is the thing being stolen. Soldiers like Han are often entrusted with millions of dollars (or Imperial credits) worth of equipment and property. Even though theft of military property is not a distinct UCMJ article, it functions as an aggravated form of larceny that reflects the seriousness of a breach of that trust. As a reflection of that seriousness, its maximum punishment is double that of traditional larceny.

Under Article 121 of the UCMJ, larceny of military property requires that five elements be proven:

That the accused wrongfully took certain property;
That the property belonged to the United States government;
That the property was of a particular value (property worth $500 or more equates to a higher maximum punishment);
That the taking was with the intent to permanently deprive the government of the use and benefit of the property; and
The property was military property.

The Military Judge’s Benchbook defines “military property” as real or personal property that is owned or used by one of the armed forces which has either a uniquely military nature, or is used by an armed force in furtherance of its mission. For example, a M1 Abrams tank would be the dictionary definition of military property, because its very nature is a war-fighting machine. Likewise, the tank’s fuel (though not uniquely military in nature) would still be military property because of its use by the Army in furtherance of its mission.

In Solo, the coaxium aboard the railcrawler train would undoubtedly fit the definition of military property. While coaxium is not a uniquely military item, this particular stockpile of it was being used by the Imperial armed forces in furtherance of its mission. The Imperial fleet depends on coaxium to power its fleet, while the specific batch of coaxium targeted by Beckett and Han was on its way to an Imperial facility where it would no doubt be destined for distribution and use.

Getting cooked and served in an ewok ceremony honoring C-3PO may be the only thing worse for Han than his military legal woes.

Han stands a better chance of successfully navigating an asteroid field than of beating this sort of charge. As for the first element, Han certainly took the coaxium, even if he wasn’t successful in getting it offworld. He not only helped Chewie break the coaxium train car free, but he then piloted the AT-hauler that was meant to carry the precious cargo away to safety. Even though the crew didn’t make it far with the coaxium (thanks to the supreme badass known as Enfys Nest) Han physically removed the coaxium car from the train and transported it elsewhere.

The Imperial military also wouldn’t break a sweat proving the second and third elements. If there’s one thing the Imperial military seems truly adept at, it’s the mundane business of exhaustive record keeping. With that in mind, Imperial prosecutors would likely trot out an exhaustive string of evidence to trace ownership of the fuel from the train all the way back to the Imperial facility that originally acquired and refined it. Given coaxium’s importance to military operations, the Empire almost certainly kept detailed records about its stockpiles in order to maintain accountability of the extremely valuable resource.

Since the coaxium from the heist was destroyed, those records would be critical to establish the value of the supply. In real world cases, the military unsurprisingly keeps detailed acquisition records on every piece of property, from the smallest bullet or wrench to tanks and aircraft. Military prosecutors typically trot out logistics and acquisitions officials who can testify to those records and amounts, providing the court with precise cost and value information.

Solo makes it clear that coaxium is exceptionally valuable, which means the amount stolen from the train was likely worth tens of millions of credits. Given coaxium’s cost and huge operational value, the Empire almost certainly kept close track of its expenditures for the resource. The mighty Imperial military would have no trouble lining up an army of stuffy experts to testify in perfectly crisp British accents about the staggering value of the fuel. This testimony would not only satisfy the third element of the crime, but it would also inevitably influence the opinion of military jurors, who would likely harbor outrage at Han’s audacity in stealing such a tremendous amount of the Empire’s property (which was no doubt totally lawfully obtained in the first place).

If legalese was one of Threepio’s 6 million languages, this would translate to “we had better start working on a plea deal immediately.”

As for proving Han’s intent to permanently deprive the Empire of the coaxium, the circumstances of the heist are damning for Han. From the theft of the AT-hauler to the team’s shootout with Range Troopers and their demolishing of the train bridge, the scale of the heist strongly suggest that the crew wasn’t just temporarily borrowing the coaxium. A plan of that complexity is evidence in and of itself of an intent to permanently deprive the Empire of the property. To make matters worse for Han, he piloted the ship that carried the coaxium away—an act that would almost certainly convince any military jury that he had the requisite intent to commit the crime.

Given the overwhelming evidence against Han, even a droid with a bad motivator could probably manage to secure a conviction against him. Of course, Han Solo would absolutely be the type of criminal defense client defiantly tell his military defense counsel “Never tell me the odds.”

Lady Proxima had the Worst Orphanage Ever

By

Josh Gilliland

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September 3, 2018

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Society has safeguards for runaway or homeless children to be in community care facilities. We saw a version of this with the Oliver Twist dial turned up to 50 in the beginning of Solo. Lady Proxima, the Grindalid matriarch of the White Worms, had a business model of taking in young Corellian children and giving them food and shelter in exchange for committing crimes. This was one of those rare fusions of Boys Town meets The Godfather.

California defines an abandoned child as an individual under 18 years old who is without provision, supervision, or necessary care. Cal. Fam. Code § 3402. Han and Qi’ra both were under 18 years of age when they were introduced in Solo. They technically were either abandoned or runaways when Proxima took them in under her care. Lady Proxima effectively ran a home for runaway or homeless children, which would need to meet the following requirements:

Provide short-term nonmedical care not exceeding 21 days for youth who voluntarily enter the shelter;
Have a maximum capacity of 25 youth;
Have a ratio of one staff person for every 8 youth;
Can use bunk beds limited to two tiers;
Operated by a non-profit;
Staff will assist youth in obtaining emergency health-related services;
Reconnect youth with family when possible; and
Work with local government for placing in foster care

Cal. Health & Safety Code § 1502.35.

The White Worms complied with none of the basic requirements for a runaway or homeless youth shelter. First, youth were there for years, which is in excess of 21 days. There clearly were more than 25 youth at the “facility.” While the ratio of youth to staff might have been at the right ratio, this was to quill uprisings of children who wanted food, not for childcare. Sleeping accommodations were not in compliance with the law. Moreover, the White Worms were not operating a non-profit, but a criminal enterprise using the children as its agents in a crime for food program.

Lady Proxima and her gang could be prosecuted for a long list of crimes, ranging from racketeering to health code violations. Proxima could be charged with contributing to the delinquency of minors crime for using children in a criminal enterprise. Anyone who encourages a person under 18 years old to commit a crime (thus be subject to juvenile court) is guilty of a misdemeanor and can be punished by up to one year in county jail, fined $2,500, or both. Furthermore, anyone who lures a child under 14 away from home is also guilty of a misdemeanor. Cal. Penal Code § 272. If Proxima was charged for each youth she induced to commit crimes or lured away from home, she could be go to jail for decades.

There is a larger issue with Lady Proxima: child neglect. “Neglect” is the maltreatment of a child by a person responsible for the child’s welfare under circumstances indicating harm or threatened harm to the child’s health or welfare. Cal. Penal Code § 11165.2. The children under Proxima’s “care” had to steal for food, fight off other children in order to get food, and were in living conditions that would cause Child Protective Services to scramble a squadron of X-Wings.

Each member of the White Worms could be charged with child abuse, which is the willful harming of a child. Cal. Penal Code § 11165.3 Rebolt enforced Lady Proxima’s will with corporal punishment against Han for failing in a criminal act for Proxima. Moloch pulled a blast on Solo when he resisted the abuse, followed by a high speed chase, blaster fire, and releasing Corellian hounds in pursuit of Han and Qi’ra. All of these actions would be extreme child abuse.

Han and Qi’ra were right to escape the White Worms. There is no credible argument that Lady Proxima had a licensed home for runaway or abandoned children. Unfortunately for those who had to steal for food, the Empire clearly did not care about the well being of children. For a society that had traded freedom for a secure “Empire,” this is not a surprising end result.