Any time a correctional officer (CO) physically assaults someone in prison, their conduct demands an especially compelling justification and robust ex post scrutiny. Instead, governing Eighth Amendment doctrine almost entirely defers to COs’ own judgments as to the need for force. This highly deferential approach is especially ill advised given the institutional culture of the modern American prison, which systematically demonizes and dehumanizes people in custody and thus primes COs to use violence unnecessarily. Even a standard of “objective unreasonableness” would not suffice to prevent case outcomes from reflecting a callous indifference to the safety of people in prison. What is needed instead is a reasonableness standard explicitly framed in terms of the state’s obligations to the incarcerated.

This Article makes the case for such a morally robust reasonableness standard and develops an account of both the normative foundations for this approach and the principles that ought to guide, not only factfinders in individual cases, but all actors in a position to shape carceral policy. What drives the inquiry—and sets it apart from the Supreme Court’s own treatment of the constitutional claims of people in custody—is the attention paid to the concrete realities of the modern American prison. The current Supreme Court is unlikely to regard with sympathy the account offered here. But it remains open to the rest of us to insist that the Eighth Amendment’s prohibition on cruel and unusual punishment has meaningful moral content beyond the narrow, often pinched reading that currently shapes the legal doctrine.

This Article is intended as part of this larger project of self-conscious moral reclamation. Its animating goals are: to expose the deep flaws in the governing law, to excavate the normative content of Eighth Amendment limits on the state’s power to inflict criminal punishment, and in the process to provide a reinvigorated moral vocabulary for understanding and challenging the use of violence by state officials against the fellow human beings they are sworn to protect. In these ways, this enterprise has considerable overlap with the growing national effort to set moral limits on police violence.

The Supreme Court’s landmark ruling in Brady v. Maryland turns sixty this year. The Brady doctrine, which requires the government to disclose favorable and material evidence to the defendant, is one of the most frequently litigated criminal procedure issues. Yet, despite decades of Brady cases in federal and state courts, we still know relatively little about how Brady claims are litigated, adjudicated, and what such claims can tell us about the criminal justice system writ large. Scholars are in the dark about how often Brady violations occur, whether it is primarily the fault of prosecutors or the police, whether violations are intentional or accidental, and a host of related questions. This Article fills a gap in the data and literature by analyzing five years of Brady claims—over 800 cases—raised in state and federal courts. We coded each case for more than forty variables to answer big-picture questions like how often Brady claims are successful and which courts are most likely to grant relief. We also studied more intricate questions such as the types of crimes and evidence at issue, whether judges deemed violations intentional or accidental, and whether judges chastised or disciplined prosecutors for failing to disclose evidence. Our study revealed some important and surprising findings. Despite suggestions in some quarters that prosecutorial misconduct is not a major problem, courts found Brady violations in 10% of the cases in our study. Prosecutors, not police, were responsible for most violations and they were almost never referred to the Bar for discipline. While federal prosecutors are supposed to be elite highly trained lawyers, they were responsible for a disproportionate share of Brady violations. And while the federal courts are lauded as the protector of civil liberties, it was state courts that granted relief more frequently, often on direct review rather than in habeas corpus proceedings as scholars would have expected. These findings and many others—such as petitioners having to wait on average ten years for relief for Brady violations—demonstrate that we continue to have egregious prosecutorial misconduct problems in the United States and that further study is needed. To that end, this project not only reports significant data, but also is the first step in the creation of a searchable database that we are creating to empower other researchers

In this essay, we update and expand David Baldus’s famous study of Georgia homicides in the 1970s to uncover the impact of the race and sex of homicide victims on whether a defendant was sentenced to death and ultimately executed. We show that the odds of a death sentence were sixteen times greater if the victim was a White woman than if the victim was a Black man, even when other factors that might explain the disparity were taken into account. Furthermore, we identified a clear hierarchy among victims with regard to whether a death sentence was ultimately carried out. Among the defendants who were sent to death row for killing a White woman, 30% were executed. But the share drops to 19% if the victim was a White man, 10% if the victim was a Black woman, and 0% if the victim was a Black man. We then use contemporary, nationwide Supplemental Homicide Report (SHR) data to show that the effect we identified in Georgia in the 1970s generalizes to the nation as a whole and to the present day. We argue that these disparities, which cannot be explained by factors extrinsic to the victim’s race and sex, are further evidence that the ultimate question of who lives and dies in our criminal justice system remains unconstitutionally tainted by outdated notions of chivalry and White supremacy.