convicted. Thus, the law which permits a defendant to testify in reality 
compels him to testify, and a much-invoked safeguard of liberty turns 
out to be a privilege in name only. In France or America alike a man 
accused of crime sooner or later has to tell what he knows--or take his 
medicine. It makes little difference whether he does so under the 
legalized interrogation of a "juge d'instruction" in Paris or under the 
quasi-voluntary examination of an assistant district attorney or police 
inspector in New York. It is six of one and half a dozen of the other if 
at his trial in France he remains mute under examination or in America 
refrains from availing himself of the privilege of testifying in his own 
behalf. 
Thus, we are reluctantly forced to the conclusion that all human 
institutions have their limitations, and that, however theoretically 
perfect a government of laws may be, it must be administered by men 
whose chief regard will not be the idealization of a theory of liberty so 
much as an immediate solution of some concrete problem.
Not that the matter, after all, is particularly important to most of us, but 
laws which exist only to be broken create a disrespect and disregard for 
law which may ultimately be dangerous. It would be perfectly simple 
for the legislature to say that a citizen might be arrested under 
circumstances tending to create a reasonable suspicion, even if he had 
not committed a crime, and it would be quite easy to pass a statute 
providing that the commissioner of police might "mug" and measure all 
criminals immediately after conviction. As it is, the prison authorities 
won't let him, so he has to do it while he has the opportunity. 
It must be admitted that this is rather hard on the innocent, but they 
now have to suffer with the guilty for the sins of an indolent and 
uninterested legislature. Moreover, if such a right of arrest were 
proposed, some wiseacre or politician would probably rise up and 
denounce the suggestion as the first step in the direction of a military 
dictatorship. Thus, we shall undoubtedly fare happily on in the blissful 
belief that our personal liberties are the subject of the most solicitous 
and zealous care on the part of the authorities, guaranteed to us under a 
government which is not of men but of laws, until one of us happens to 
be arrested (by mistake, of course) and learns by sad experience the 
practical methods of the police in dealing with criminals and the 
agreeable but deceptive character of the pleasant fiction of the 
presumption of innocence. 
CHAPTER II 
Preparing a Criminal Case for Trial 
When the prosecuting attorney in a great criminal trial arises to open 
the case to the impanelled jury, very few, if any, of them have the 
slightest conception of the enormous expenditure of time, thought and 
labor which has gone into the preparation of the case and made possible 
his brief and easily delivered speech. For in this opening address of his 
there must be no flaw, since a single misstated or overstated fact may 
prejudice the jury against him and result in his defeat. Upon it also 
depends the jury's first impression of the case and of the prosecutor 
himself--no inconsiderable factor in the result. In a trial of importance
its careful construction with due regard to what facts shall be omitted 
(in order to enhance their dramatic effect when ultimately proven) may 
well occupy the district attorney every evening for a week. But if the 
speech itself has involved study and travail, it is as nothing compared 
with the amount required by that most important feature of every 
criminal case--the selection of the jury. 
For a month before the trial, or whenever it may be that the jury has 
been drawn, every member upon the panel has been subjected to an 
unseen scrutiny. The prosecutor, through his own or through hired 
sleuths, has examined into the family history, the business standing and 
methods, the financial responsibility, the political and social affiliations, 
and the personal habits and "past performances" of each and every 
talesman. When at the beginning of the trial they, one by one, take the 
witness-chair (on what is called the voir dire) to subject themselves to 
an examination by both sides as to their fitness to serve as jurors in the 
case, the district attorney probably has close fit hand a rather detailed 
account of each, and perchance has great difficulty in restraining a 
smile. When some prospective juror, in his eagerness either to serve or 
to escape, deliberately equivocates in answer to an important question 
as to his personal history. 
"Are you acquainted with the accused or his family?" mildly inquires 
the assistant prosecutor. "No--not at all," the talesman    
    
		
	
	
	Continue reading on your phone by scaning this QR Code
 
	 	
	
	
	    Tip: The current page has been bookmarked automatically. If you wish to continue reading later, just open the 
Dertz Homepage, and click on the 'continue reading' link at the bottom of the page.
	    
	    
