Judge Marvin Wiggins’s courtroom was packed on a September
morning. The docket listed hundreds of offenders who owed fines or fees
for a wide variety of crimes — hunting after dark, assault, drug
possession and passing bad checks among them.
“Good
morning, ladies and gentlemen,” began Judge Wiggins, a circuit judge
here in rural Alabama since 1999. “For your consideration, there’s a
blood drive outside,” he continued, according to a recording of the
hearing. “If you don’t have any money, go out there and give blood and
bring in a receipt indicating you gave blood.”
For those who had no money or did not want to give blood, the judge concluded: “The sheriff has enough handcuffs.”
Efforts
by courts and local governments to generate revenue by imposing fines
for minor offenses, particularly from poor and working-class people,
have attracted widespread attention and condemnation in recent months.
But legal and health experts said they could not think of another modern
example of a court all but ordering offenders to give blood in lieu of
payment, or face jail time. They all agreed that it was improper.
“What
happened is wrong in about 3,000 ways,” said Arthur L. Caplan, a
professor of medical ethics at NYU Langone Medical Center, part of New
York University. “You’re basically sentencing someone to an invasive
procedure that doesn’t benefit them and isn’t protecting the public
health.”
Reached by phone, Judge Wiggins said: “I cannot speak with you.”
The
dozens of offenders who showed up that day, old and young, filed out of
the Perry County courthouse and waited their turn at a mobile blood
bank parked in the street. They were told to bring a receipt to the
clerk showing they had given a pint of blood, and in return they would
receive a $100 credit toward their fines — and be allowed to go free.
Carl
Crocker, who was among those who owed money to the court, recounted
seeing one older man pass out after his blood was taken. Another
defendant, Traci Green, said that one young man became so angry about
the choice he was given that he was taken out of the courtroom.
James M. Barnes Jr., a lawyer who was in the courtroom that morning, said, “I thought it was really unusual.”
“I don’t know whether it’s legal or not. I don’t know if that violates half the Constitution,” he said.
On
Monday, the Southern Poverty Law Center filed an ethics complaint
against Judge Wiggins, saying he had committed “a violation of bodily
integrity.” The group also objected to the hearing beyond the matter of
blood collection, calling the entire proceeding unconstitutional.
Payment-due
hearings like this one are part of a new initiative by Alabama’s
struggling courts to raise money by aggressively pursuing outstanding
fines, restitution, court costs and lawyer fees. Many of those whose
payments are sought in these hearings have been found at one point to be
indigent, yet their financial situations often are not considered when
they are summoned for outstanding payments.
Several
people who were at the hearing on Sept. 17 said they were unsure
whether they were being ordered to pay the entire amount due or their
usual monthly payment, which many had already been paying on time, often
for offenses dating back a decade or more.
Mr.
Green, 43, who owes thousands of dollars in connection with two
marijuana-related convictions — one from 1998 — said he had offered to
pay as much as he could but had been led to believe that he had to give
blood anyway.
“He
told us we got to go there and give some blood or we go to jail,” Mr.
Green said. He said he had willingly given blood before but, like others
there on that day, did not want to be compelled to do so.
Ordering
defendants to give blood used to be more commonplace, particularly
during wartime, according to “Flesh and Blood,” a history of blood
transfusions and organ transplantation by Susan Lederer, a professor of
medical history at Yale.
In
the mid-20th century, judges in several places around the country,
including Honolulu after the Pearl Harbor attack, ordered people
convicted of traffic violations to give blood or offered blood donations
as an alternative to a fine. More commonly, prisoners would receive
cash incentives or reduced sentences for giving blood. (As late as 2008,
a judge in Broward County, Fla., offered traffic offenders the choice
of a fine, community service or a blood donation.)
But
fears about the spread of hepatitis led to a broad move away from
compensation for blood in the 1970s and to what has become a nearly
all-volunteer blood donation system. While it is not illegal to pay
someone for blood, the Food and Drug Administration does require that
blood collected in exchange for compensation be labeled “paid,” and
hospitals generally refuse such blood for transfusions.
Mr.
Crocker, 41, who made the recordings of Judge Wiggins, also recorded
the employees of the mobile blood bank, who seemed fully aware of the
sentence-reduction arrangement. Mr. Crocker said he grew even more
uncomfortable later, after he recognized the blood bank, LifeSouth
Community Blood Centers, which had recently lost a $4 million judgment
for an H.I.V.-tainted blood transfusion.
“It’s
just wrong for them to utilize people who are in the court system and
essentially extort blood out of you because you owe traffic tickets,
misdemeanors, felonies, whatever you’re there for,” Mr. Crocker said.
Jill
Evans, a vice president for LifeSouth, which is based in Gainesville,
Fla., said the employee who set up the blood drive with the courthouse
had acted improperly because the employee understood ahead of time that
the judge would reduce community service obligations for those willing
to donate, a violation of company policy.
“We
appreciate the judge’s attempt to support the community’s blood needs,”
Ms. Evans said. “However, LifeSouth prohibits blood donations from
being considered as community service because it is potentially an
unacceptable incentive for a volunteer donor.”
Ms.
Evans said that after receiving a complaint, LifeSouth quarantined and
tested the blood, tried to contact all the donors and eventually
discarded nearly all of the blood units collected.
The
record at the county jail shows that no one was taken into custody that
day. The court clerk said in a brief interview that there had been no
intention of jailing anyone; Mr. Crocker said this was because everyone
decided that having blood taken was better than going to jail.
However,
Sara Zampierin, a lawyer at the Southern Poverty Law Center, said that
in the handful of instances she reviewed of people who gave blood, none
had received the $100 discount they had been promised.
Source: NY Times
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