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It was only last August that Downey got out of Corcoran State Prison.
He had served a bit more than a year of an original three-year
sentence. Corcoran is where Charles Manson and Sirhan Sirhan, killers
both, are held. It is hard, hard time.
With Manson and Sirhan we can all name their victims. But who is
Downey's? It has to be himself. He has committed no violent crime,
robbed no bank nor, may I add, offered me a cell phone service that
works only sporadically. The Palm Springs bust is illustrative. The
Merv Griffin Resort Hotel and Givenchy Spa received no complaints and
was blissfully unaware that in one of its rooms, a famous actor was
determinedly sabotaging his career. Not so much as a towel was taken.
To say that Downey has a problem is to understate matters by a
considerable degree. He has lost his wife, his child and--it may turn
out--his career. He has put a fortune up his nose and, like any
addict, lied to friends and loved ones. His first allegiance, his
only allegiance, is to his next fix. I pity the man.
But I do not fear him. That is to say, I do not fear him any more
than I do an alcoholic. I would not want either driving a car while
zonked. But neither one is a criminal just on account of their
addiction. If they steal to get drugs (or if they drive drunk), then
they have committed a crime. Even then, though, what they need is
treatment, not mere incarceration. Too often what they get is jail
time.
Downey's is the perfect face of the war on drugs. Just as his real
victim is himself, so we have made war on ourselves. The lust for
arrests has caused police agencies to throw the Constitution to the
wind and, frequently, stop people on the probable cause of being
black or Hispanic. On the New Jersey Turnpike, at least eight out of
10 searches made by state troopers were of minorities. Seventy
percent of the time, they came up empty-handed, leaving a residue of
bitterness and the rest of us no safer.
Until a recent Supreme Court ruling, some police departments
established roadblocks designed to catch people with drugs. Applying
common sense, the court said that a sobriety checkpoint was designed
to protect the public from drunk drivers, but possession of drugs was
a different matter. That's a law enforcement issue and, as the
Constitution requires, a warrant is necessary. Searching every other
car is hardly what you would call "probable cause."
Prisoners convicted for drug-related crimes clog the jails. As with
stops on the Jersey Turnpike, the effect is racially
disproportionate. Blacks comprise about 12 percent of the population
but account for 62 percent of drug offenders in state prisons. All
together, federal prisons hold almost 240,000 persons convicted of
drug--not violent--crimes, and the states hold about 200,000 more.
This is an expensive proposition.
There's some evidence that Americans are getting fed up with a
hard-line approach to drugs. Voters in nine states have approved the
use of marijuana for medical necessity--three just this year alone.
In California, voters approved a referendum to have nonviolent drug
offenders sentenced to treatment facilities rather than to jail.
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