Luther Wilkins, Jr., was arrested in South Holland, Illinois in 1979 on suspicion of bank robbery. He was taken to the local police station and placed in a cell. Later that day he was taken to an interrogation room. There, while seated and handcuffed, he was questioned by two FBI agents, May and McDaniel. Wilkins claims that May held a pistol two or three inches from Wilkins’s head, pointed at his temple,
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and by doing so inflicted severe mental distress on him. He was prosecuted in federal district court for bank robbery, was convicted, and was sentenced to fifteen years’ imprisonment. We affirmed.
United States v. Wilkins,
Before Wilkins’s trial the district judge had suppressed one of the statements that Wilkins had made during the interrogation. Apparently the judge believed that May had indeed pointed a gun at Wilkins while questioning him. After his conviction, Wilkins brought the present suit, which seeks damages from May and McDaniel on the ground that by extracting his confession at gunpoint they violated his constitutional rights. To this claim under
Bivens v. Six Unknown Named Agents,
The district judge dismissed the claims against May and Kech because Wilkins had never served them with the complaint, and the claim against Zielenga because a witness has absolute immunity from damages liability for the consequences of his testimony. The judge dismissed the Federal Tort Claims Act claim on the ground that the Act does not authorize punitive damages, and refused to allow Wilkins to amend the complaint to ask for compensatory damages under the Act, noting that neither perjury nor conspiracy to commit perjury is a tort under Illinois law (see
John Allan Co. v. Brandow,
That is the only questionable ruling. Wilkins’s failure to serve May and Kech was inexcusable even under the liberal standard of
Del Raine v. Carlson,
“Whenever an officer restrains the freedom of a person to walk away, he has seized that person” within the meaning of the Fourth Amendment.
Tennessee v. Garner,
The problem with this argument is that Wilkins had already been seized. He was seized when he was arrested. A natural although not inevitable interpretation of the word “seizure” would limit it to the initial act of seizing, with the result that subsequent events would be deemed to have occurred after rather than during the
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seizure. Now once an arrested person is charged but before he is convicted, the question whether the fact, manner, or duration of his continued confinement is unconstitutional passes over from the Fourth Amendment to the due process clause. See
Johnson v. Glick,
It would be strange if the police were forbidden to use excessive force in making an arrest but free to beat the arrested person senseless as soon as the arrest was complete — yet after he was convicted and imprisoned were again forbidden, this time by the Eighth Amendment, to use excessive force. The concept of a continuing seizure is one way of filling this odd and unattractive gap in the Constitution. Moreover, we know from
Tennessee v. Gamer
that to kill a fleeing suspect is a seizure within the meaning of the Fourth Amendment; it is simply a particularly dramatic deprivation of personal liberty, one of the interests protected by the amendment. If, having arrested and therefore seized a suspect, the police shoot him in order to make him more tractable, it can be argued that they have seized him anew— they have deprived him of additional dimensions of liberty. The analogy is to those incremental deprivations of liberty that are brought about by closer confinement of an imprisoned person (for example, in disciplinary segregation); they are deprivations of liberty actionable under the due process clause.
Wolff v. McDonnell,
Garner
is not controlling, though. It is a first-seizure case. And the incremental-imprisonment analogy is just that — an analogy. Analogies are everywhere; the trick is to pick the apt analogy.
Baker v. McCollan,
We are more impressed by two practical objections to the use of the Fourth Amendment to determine the limits of permissible post-arrest pre-charge conduct. The first is that the considerations that have been used to give meaning to the key substantive term in the amendment — “unreasonable” — are largely inapplicable once the arrest has taken place and the arrested person has been placed securely in custody. The usual issue in a Fourth Amendment arrest case is probable cause; in an excessive-force case such as
Gamer,
it is whether the force used to seize the suspect was excessive in relation to the danger he posed (whether to the community or to the arresting officers) if left at large. For representative Fourth Amendment excessive-force cases see
Williams v. Boles, supra: Hinojosa v. City of Terrell,
It is pertinent to note, moreover, that the action of a police officer in pointing a gun at a person is not, in and of itself, actionable under the cases we have just cited. Where the officer merely points a gun at a suspect in the course of arresting him, the suspect would have no basis for claiming that he had been seized with excessive force in violation of the Constitution. See, e.g.,
Hinojosa v. City of Terrell, supra.
In the Fifth Circuit, physical injury must be shown in order to state a claim under the Fourth Amendment for excessive force when the force is used in the course of an otherwise proper arrest, but this showing is not required in situations not involving an arrest. See the discussion of this distinction in
United States v. Bigham, supra,
The second objection to the Fourth Amendment route is that it could lead to an unwarranted expansion of constitutional law. Suppose that all that May had done in the interrogation of Wilkins, besides ask questions, was stick his tongue out at Wilkins. This would be unreasonable; would it therefore make the “continuing seizure” of Wilkins violative of the Fourth Amendment? Surely not. But why not? There are no obvious limiting principles within the amendment itself. The problem is that the concept of continuing seizure attenuates the element that makes police conduct in the arrest situation problematic: the police are taking away a person’s liberty. Custodial interrogation does not curtail a person’s freedom of action; it presupposes that he has already lost that freedom — for by definition he already is in custody. We reject the concept of continuing seizure.
There are, however, other possible routes to a conclusion that brutal police conduct in a custodial interrogation states a constitutional claim. First, the Fifth Amendment forbids compulsory self-incrimination. A number of cases hold that questioning a suspect at gunpoint violates this prohibition and is actionable under section 1983 (or, we may assume,
Bivens),
even if no confession results (and here a confession
did
result, and was suppressed). See, e.g.,
Kerr v. City of Chicago,
Second, if ever there were a strong case for “substantive due process,” it would be a case in which a person who had been arrested but not charged or convicted was brutalized while in custody. If the wanton or malicious infliction of severe pain or suffering upon a person being arrested violates the Fourth Amendment — as no one doubts — and if the wanton or malicious infliction of severe pain or suffering upon a prison inmate violates the Eighth Amendment — as no one doubts — it would be surprising if the wanton or malicious infliction of severe pain or suffering upon a person confined following his arrest but not yet charged or convicted were thought consistent with due process. The considerable authority that it is not (authority that includes Judge Friendly’s opinion in
Johnson v. Glick, supra)
is marshaled effectively in
Kidd v. O’Neil,
The argument for the approach taken in these cases is the sheer anomaly of excluding (other than by expansive interpretation of the Fourth Amendment through the concept of “continuing seizure”) persons between arrest and conviction — not to mention the entire law-abiding community!— from constitutional protection against police brutality. The argument against is that maybe the Constitution is not a seamless web, and contains gaps that courts are not authorized to fill either by stretching the Fourth Amendment or by invoking the nebulous and historically much-abused concept of substantive due process.
Lester v. City of Chicago, supra,
The due process clause of the Fifth and Fourteenth Amendments forbids the government to deprive persons of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law. “Liberty” has been generously interpreted, to encompass not just freedom of physical action but also such intangibles as familial association and liberty of conscience. See our recent discussion in
Mayo v. Lane,
This is not to suggest that the federal courts should or will undertake to monitor the details of police interrogations, and to award damages whenever the police cross the line that separates coercive from noncoercive interrogation. The relevant liberty is not freedom from unlawful interrogations but freedom from severe bodily or mental harm inflicted in the course of an interrogation. We do not undertake to specify a particular threshold, a task that may well exceed our powers of articulation. But it is a high threshold, and to cross it Wilkins and plaintiffs like him must show misconduct that a reasonable person would find so beyond the norm of proper police procedure as to shock the conscience, and that is calculated to induce not merely momentary fear or anxiety, but severe mental suffering, in the plaintiff. Whether the threshold was crossed here is an issue to be explored on remand.
Affirmed in Part, Reversed in Part, and Remanded with Directions.
