老夫子传媒

漏 2024 | 老夫子传媒
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Should police be able to interrogate kids alone? A growing number of states say no

The Legal Rights Center in Minneapolis holds trainings to teach young people how to assert their rights in police custody.
Jaida Grey Eagle for NPR
The Legal Rights Center in Minneapolis holds trainings to teach young people how to assert their rights in police custody.

Most people have heard a version on TV of what are known as the Miranda Rights: 鈥淵ou have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you.鈥

It鈥檚 another thing entirely to hear them in person when a police officer is reciting them while placing you in custody.

鈥淭hese guys have the power to lock you up. They got guns on their hip. It鈥檚 intimidating,鈥 a 22-year-old recently told NPR. We aren鈥檛 publishing his name because he鈥檚 on probation and worried he might face retaliation for talking to a reporter.

The first time he heard those words, he was in the sixth grade. Police were arresting him for threatening a bully with a pocket knife.

鈥淭hey didn't call my mom. They didn't call a lawyer. They told me my rights, but I'm 12. So I didn't fully understand what was happening,鈥 says the young man.

That day, he didn鈥檛 ask for a lawyer, and he did talk. Studies show nearly all juveniles make the same choice: As waive their Miranda rights. Yet legal experts say children and teenagers don鈥檛 understand the consequences of doing so.

Now, some states are working to fix that. In the last three years, at least four states 鈥 including , , and 鈥 have passed laws banning police from interrogating children until that child has spoken to a lawyer. has introduced a bill broadening its protections for juveniles questioned by police, and other states 鈥 including and 鈥 have introduced similar bills.

鈥楾hey literally don鈥檛 have the same resources that fully grown people do鈥

The brain areas that govern impulsivity, self-regulation and decision-making aren鈥檛 fully developed until about the mid-twenties, says Hayley Cleary, an associate professor of criminal justice at Virginia Commonwealth University.

鈥淚t is fundamentally unfair to interrogate them in the same way we do adults when they literally don鈥檛 have the same resources that fully grown people do,鈥 she says.

In a room alone with police, children and teenagers are than adults to falsely confess to a crime. They鈥檙e also more vulnerable to incriminating themselves or pleading guilty when a lawyer wouldn鈥檛 have advised it, says Marsha Levick, chief legal officer of the Juvenile Law Center in Philadelphia.

That can lead to harsher punishment, like more time in juvenile detention. Being incarcerated disrupts childhood. are less likely to graduate from high school and more likely to be incarcerated as adults.

鈥淐hildren plead guilty in juvenile court every day, and they're represented by lawyers who are advising them and talking through with them what the consequences of that means,鈥 Levick says. 鈥淭o do it on their own with no one to explain to them what the right is that they're giving up and what the consequences of giving up that right are, is simply unreasonable.鈥

After police questioned the now 22-year-old that NPR interviewed, he was put on probation. That started a cycle: He went to juvenile detention the next year at 13, and has been on probation or behind bars on and off ever since.

鈥淎t this point, it's a part of my life, you know what I mean? As sad as it is to say. I don't want to be in the system and have to deal with that for the rest of my life,鈥 he says.

Chelsea Schmitz-Gillam, a juvenile defense attorney at the Legal Rights Center in Minneapolis, says there is an imbalance of power between young people and police during questioning.
Jaida Grey Eagle for NPR /
Chelsea Schmitz-Gillam, a juvenile defense attorney at the Legal Rights Center in Minneapolis, says there is an imbalance of power between young people and police during questioning.

Eventually, he connected with the nonprofit Legal Rights Center in Minneapolis. Chelsea Schmitz-Gillam, a juvenile defense attorney there, has represented him multiple times.

鈥淗e knows how to assert his rights when I am sitting next to him. We've practiced it many times,鈥 she says. 鈥淚 am also not a police officer.鈥

She remembers watching a recording of the young man being questioned.

鈥淗e says, 鈥業 think this is the time where I'm supposed to call my lawyer. I think this is the time where I shouldn't be saying anything else,鈥欌 Schmitz-Gillam says. 鈥淭he police officers 鈥 who are trained in their field, which is interrogation tactics, which our youth are not trained in 鈥 continue to have a conversation with him: 鈥榃ell, it's up to you, if you really think you need a lawyer, but also if you talk with us right now, look, there's ways that we can make this easier for you.鈥欌

鈥楽tates have moved towards building the responsibility on the system鈥

In a classroom last spring in St. Paul., Minn., a group of high school students listened to a presentation about what to do in police interactions.

The training was held by the Legal Rights Center which, in addition to providing legal representation, conducts 鈥渒now your rights鈥 trainings for young people around the Twin Cities.

The trainer asked the group if they thought people under 18 have the right to ask for a parent when questioned by police. Several students nodded yes, but the answer was no. Some seemed concerned. One said it made her worry about her little brother.

鈥淐urrently the responsibility is on young people to assert those rights,鈥 says Malaika Eban, executive director of the center. 鈥淏ut a lot of states have moved towards building the responsibility on the system.鈥

Malaika Eban, executive director of the Legal Rights Center in Minneapolis, says some states are moving toward putting the responsibility on adults to assert the rights of young people in police custody.
Jaida Grey Eagle for NPR /
Malaika Eban, executive director of the Legal Rights Center in Minneapolis, says some states are moving toward putting the responsibility on adults to assert the rights of young people in police custody.

There has been pushback among law enforcement, says Dave Thompson, a consultant who trains investigators in interrogation techniques.

For instance, Thompson says, will there be enough lawyers to talk to all these kids, or will police have to wait hours before asking questions on what might be an urgent case?

鈥淚 think it鈥檚 just this nervousness, 鈥業f we add these safeguards, we're not going to get any more information,鈥 says Thompson, but he added, 鈥渋f we do it the right way, and everybody鈥檚 rights are protected, that should benefit justice as a whole.鈥

Eban, of the Legal Rights Center, says it鈥檚 not about young people getting off the hook for wrongdoing, but about whether they should be questioned alone by an adult with power.

鈥淣obody wants that for their own child,鈥 she says. 鈥淚f we can just have that breath of: 鈥極kay, what would I want to have happen if my kid did something wrong or was accused of doing something wrong?鈥欌

Copyright 2024 NPR

Meg Anderson is an editor on NPR's Investigations team, where she shapes the team's groundbreaking work for radio, digital and social platforms. She served as a producer on the Peabody Award-winning series Lost Mothers, which investigated the high rate of maternal mortality in the United States. She also does her own original reporting for the team, including the series Heat and Health in American Cities, which won multiple awards, and the story of a COVID-19 outbreak in a Black community and the systemic factors at play. She also completed a fellowship as a local reporter for WAMU, the public radio station for Washington, D.C. Before joining the Investigations team, she worked on NPR's politics desk, education desk and on Morning Edition. Her roots are in the Midwest, where she graduated with a Master's degree from Northwestern University's Medill School of Journalism.