Georgia Criminal Law Blog

By David Von Drehle  (click here for link)

In 1990, Curtis Osborne, a small-time cocaine dealer and addict, killed
two people in a dispute over $400. His crime revulsed the town of
Griffin, Georgia, one measure of which was the bigoted remark a local
inmate reported hearing at the jail: “That little nigger deserves the
chair.”

As repulsive as the remark was on its own, far more disturbing was the
fact that the person alleged to have uttered it was Osborne’s own
court-appointed lawyer. And somehow, through years of appeals in state
and federal courts, no tribunal has squarely confronted this basic but
fundamental question: is a person on trial for his life entitled to a
lawyer who does not hold him in contempt and believe he should be executed.

Osborne is scheduled to be executed Wednesday. His last-ditch plea to
have his sentence commuted to life in prison was denied this morning by
the state Board of Pardons and Paroles, despite supportive letters from
Georgia luminaries including former President Jimmy Carter and former
deputy attorney general Larry Thompson — a Democrat and a Republican,
respectively.

His case is a vivid example of the way legal “technicalities” have
tipped the scales from favoring death row prisoners to favoring the
state. Georgia officials, after all, never had to try to prove that
Osborne’s lawyer was not a bigot, or even that his feelings about his
client shouldn’t matter one way or the other. Instead, they were the
beneficiaries of court rulings that said the issue was moot for
procedural reasons.

From the record of his case, Curtis Osborne was a numbskull junkie who
managed to sell his friend’s motorcycle for $400, then pocketed the
money. When the friend came after the cash, Osborne shot the man and his
girlfriend at close range. He later tried to explain the gunshot residue
on his hands by saying that he fed his dog doses of gunpowder, but the
authorities weren’t impressed. Osborne eventually cracked and confessed.

Soon after, the flamboyant Johnny Mostiler, a local lawyer known for his
abundant jewelry, handlebar moustache and overwhelming caseload, became
his attorney. In those days, Mostiler represented all the indigent
inmates in the county for a flat annual fee, hundreds and hundreds of
felony cases. His clients often filed into court shackled to one another
in rows to enter their guilty pleas, according to a profile in American
Prospect magazine. So suffice it to say that he didn’t have a lot of
time for Osborne.

Preparation for a first-rate capital defense can often take hundreds of
hours, including an extensive investigation of the accused’s childhood,
mental health, drug abuse history and so on. But the law does not
promise a first-rate defense. As a panel of judges from the 11th Circuit
Court of Appeals said in denying Osborne’s request for a new trial, “for
a petitioner to show deficient performance” by an attorney, “he must
establish that no competent counsel would have taken the action that his
counsel did take.” And how do you show that? “There are no absolute
rules,” the judges said vaguely.

So throughout Osborne’s legal odyssey state and federal judges combed
through his appeals in an effort to decide just how third-rate
Mostiler’s work actually was. Osborne argued that Mostiler should have
uncovered exculpatory evidence. The courts decided that the evidence
wasn’t exculpatory enough. Osborne’s lawyers said Mostiler should have
called experts to challenge the prosecution case. Courts decided that
experts would not have changed the outcome. Osborne challenged the
failure to conduct a robust examination of the role of mental illness
and addiction in his unraveling. The courts believed Mostiler’s
testimony that he never saw any evidence of drug abuse or illness.
Instead, Mostiler chose to argue to the jury that Osborne’s crimes were
not premeditated, an ultimately unsuccessful strategy that appeals
courts found to be nonetheless reasonable.

All in all, Osborne’s has been a fairly typical capital appeal, in which
the defense team heaps allegations on the original lawyer — the
high-living Mostiler died of a coronary in 2000 — while the prosecution
extols the brilliance of the condemned man’s trial attorney. “Mostiler
was the toughest trial lawyer in Spalding County,” one prosecutor
declared of a man far better known for engineering guilty pleas than for
winning cases in the courtroom.

Which leaves the alleged racist remarks and the attorney’s apparent
belief that his own client deserved to die.

Those words didn’t actually surface until years after they were
allegedly uttered, when another Mostiler client at the time of Osborne’s
trial reported the slur. He said Mostiler indicated that he wasn’t
planning to work very hard to save the killer and that he wasn’t telling
Osborne that the state was offering a plea bargain to life in prison.
The issue of the plea deal had already been raised in an earlier appeal
before the lawyer’s death, and when Mostiler testified that he conveyed
the state’s offer and Osborne turned it down, the appellate judges chose
to believe him over his former client.

It’s too late to ask him about the n-word in Osborne’s case — but this
is not the first time Mostiler has been accused of using the word to
describe a client. In another case, a defendant unsuccessfully tried to
get a new lawyer because Mostiler was calling him hateful names. When
the judge turned to the lawyer, Mostiler didn’t deny it. “I honestly
can’t say whether I said it or not. I don’t use those terms out in
public,” was as far as he would go.

But neither Mostiler nor the State of Georgia was ever pressed on the
matter. State courts ruled that Osborne waited too long to raise the
issue, and federal courts deferred to that decision. The 11th Circuit
panel closed the matter in dry and technical terms: “The state trial
court relied upon Georgia procedural rules in denying Osborne relief on
this claim. As such, the claim is barred from federal review.”

Of course, we are talking about a confessed killer of two people. Some
Americans believe that all such aggravated murders should be punished by
death. That’s not the law, however: in 1976, the Supreme Court ruled
that mandatory death sentences are unconstitutional. Instead, each
capital case must be individually scrutinized on its own merits.

But is this individual scrutiny possible when the prisoner’s attorney
slurs him and says he deserves to die? For Curtis Osborne, the ultimate
insult is that such a crucial question is barred from review.

You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.