Intention
Two young children are playing.
We see similar questions in far less humorous circumstances. Murder, in the simplest terms, is the intentional killing of a human being by another. Imagine a person – let's call him Bob – is walking down a road, and another person – we'll call him Dennis – is driving down that road, his car racing at 65 miles per hour. If Dennis hits Bob with the intention of killing him, Dennis is guilty of murder if Bob dies (and attempted murder if Bob doesn't die). This isn't too hard to understand.
However, what if Dennis had no intention of killing Bob? Consider this alternative scenario. Dennis is running late for work. He works a very stressful job, and if he isn't on time today, he will probably get fired. He has a family. In fact, his kids were the reason he was late – his wife was sick and the younger one hurt her hand and needed first aid. Without his income, Bob's family will likely struggle to put food on the table. Dennis's livelihood hinges upon making it to work on time. And so, he speeds down the road at 75 miles per hour in a 45 mile-per-hour zone, when all of a sudden, good ol' Bob walks down the street unsuspectingly. Dennis makes a desperate attempt to swerve around him. Perspiration forms over his forehead, tears stream down his face in an endless downpour as he realizes he's too late. His car slams into Bob, killing the man instantly.
Dennis is not guilty of murder because killing Bob was not his intention – far from it. In the United States, every state except three have what's called "vehicular homicide" laws. Speeding through a 45 mile-per-hour zone at 75 is incredibly dangerous, as Dennis found the hard way. In general, if a person drives dangerously and ends up killing someone as a result of it, that person is guilty of vehicular homicide. Even though Dennis didn't mean to kill Bob, he is still guilty of a crime. However, it is not as severe a crime as if he did mean to kill Bob. His intentions reduced his punishment. This idea isn't too foreign to most people – in common terms, it's "manslaughter": when a person kills another person criminally, but not with malicious intent.
Killing is bad. This is common sense morality. However, there is a common circumstance in which a person intentionally kills another human being, but is not guilty of murder. The issue lies in the nature of the killer's intentions – the nature can, indeed, justify the killing. Let's go back to the first Dennis – the one who actually committed murder – for an example. Dennis hopes to somehow get away with the crime. He can kiss those hopes goodbye, because unfortunately for him, a police officer has witnessed the event and is now in high-speed pursuit.
To avoid all confusion, this is not the same Dennis with the loving family. He is not late for work. He hated Bob so much that he killed him. But he doesn't want to go to jail. Accordingly, he floors the accelerator and speeds off over 100 miles per hour, police cruisers joining the chase behind him one-by-one, each with their blue-and-red lights flashing wildly, their sirens piercing the air, beseeching Dennis to end the insanity. Dennis weaves through traffic on the interstate, crosses a state line, and eventually lands in a parking lot, where he finds himself surrounded. The officers draw their firearms. Dennis, however, refuses to give up. He floors the accelerator once again, but loses control when he hits a police car. The officer in the car fires three shots into Dennis's car. Nevertheless, Dennis manages to regain control and once again floors the accelerator. The officers then fire 12 more shots at Dennis. Several of the gunshots hit their mark, causing Dennis to lose control again and crash. He dies as a result of his injuries.
This is a situation in which the police officers' intentionally used deadly force against another human being, and in doing so, killed that human. Yes, they did deliberately chose to shoot at Dennis – but for the intention of putting an end to this life-threatening chase. Are these officers guilty of a crime? Does their intention matter?
I based this scenario on a true story. The real-life Dennis – whose name was Donald Rickard – did not kill anyone, but at midnight on July 18, 2004, officers pulled Rickard over because one of his headlights wasn't working, and he sped off when the officers grew suspicious of his vehicle and asked him to step out. Rickard's daughter sued the police officers in federal court, alleging that their use of deadly force against Rickard to end the high-speed chase was excessive. Both the District Court and the Court of Appeals agreed, holding that the police officers' use of deadly force was not reasonable.
The Supreme Court disagreed. In Plumhoff v. Rickard (2014), the Supreme Court reversed the Court of Appeals, finding that the intention of the police officers was not malicious. Rickard was still trying to flee, and the officers knew that if he were allowed to escape, the continuation of the chase would lead to a serious, deadly threat to the safety of the public. When the officers shot at Rickard, their primary intention was to end the chase, to protect the public – they shot at Rickard because, given the circumstances, they thought they had no other choice. If they did not shoot, the chase would have gone on and would have quite likely killed more people – civilians and officers alike. Additionally, the Court found that fifteen shots was not considered excessive or indicative of malicious intent – if officers are justified in shooting to end a deadly threat to public safety, then they are justified to continue shooting until the threat is ended. For these reasons and others, the Court held unanimously that the police officers' use of deadly force was "objectively reasonable in light of the circumstances."
So it appears, then, that intention does matter...
Let's flip things over entirely and talk about a new, entirely different scenario. Hey, we can even throw in some second person – make this a bit more fun. Let's say you have been eyeing a jewelry store for some time now. One piece really attracts you. Problem is, you don't actually have the money to afford that piece of jewelry. So you suck it up and just stick to looking at it. But as time goes on, that piece of jewelry captures your attention more and more until it's all you can think about. Finally, you have had enough. You decide to take your gun and commit an armed robbery.
Of course, you don't actually want to kill anybody with your gun. You just need the gun as leverage to force the owner of the jewelry shop to hand over the piece you want so badly. You plan the heist tirelessly for several weeks. Finally, you're ready. You walk in, draw your weapon, point it at the shop owner and declare at the top of your lungs your intention: you want the piece of jewelry and you want it now. No amount of preparation, however, could have prepared you for what happens next.
Turns out, the jewelry shop owner has a gun of his own, hidden under the counter. He picks that up and shoots at you twice. The bullets miss you by inches – instead, they hit people behind you, innocent people. They die instantly. At this point, the confusion has stalled you long enough that your time has run out – the cops are here. They arrest you and charge you... with murder.
To be absolutely clear: you did not shoot your gun at all in the entire sequence of events. The shop owner was the one who shot at you (in self-defense) and who killed the bystanders. Your intention was not to kill innocents. But does your intention matter?
In all but four U.S. states (the exceptions being Ohio, Kentucky, Michigan and Hawaii), you can be found guilty of murder (no, not manslaughter or vehicular homicide – murder of the highest degree) even if your intention was not to kill – even if you didn't pull the trigger. In 24 of those states, you can receive the death penalty if you are convicted. The idea is called the "felony murder rule", and it dates back to eighteenth-century England (England has since abolished the rule). To put it simply: if you commit a dangerous felony (such as armed robbery), and a death happens during the commission of that felony, then you are guilty of murder. Your intentions do not matter.
Thus, the relevancy of intention in homicide law – at least in the United States – is rather contradictory. If it were applied to the case of Jack and Jacob from earlier: if they were simply playing Harry Potter – nothing more, nothing less – the teacher wouldn't punish Jacob for accidentally hitting Jack with a stick as severely as if he had intentionally done so. However, if, instead, Jacob was involved in a fight on the school playground, and while doing so, accidentally kicked a stick up into Jack's face – then Jacob would be punished for hitting Jack with a stick just as severely as if he had intentionally done so (and in addition to getting punished for being in a fight).
Is that fair? Proponents of the felony murder rule argue that it acts as a deterrent for dangerous felonies. They argue that if you're unhappy with a felony murder charge, you shouldn't have committed a felony in the first place. They argue that if you decide to commit a felony, you should be prepared to accept all the consequences of the felony.
Something about this troubles me. Yes, you should be prepared to accept all consequences of the felony. That concept is not in dispute. What is disputed is whether the felony murder rule is a valid consequence of the felony. The rule can deter felonies high and low, but being a deterrent doesn't change the fact that the person did not willingly kill another person. And obviously, committing a felony is an exceedingly poor decision, but that's what it is – a decision. You choose to commit a felony – it can be an willful decision (in which your intention is to commit the felony) or a negligent decision (in which you have made a decision so careless as to be criminal, e.g. a toy manufacturer using lead paint), but it's something you choose to do. Felony murder, on the other hand, is like Russian roulette: if someone dies (gun chamber is loaded), you're a murderer; if no one dies (chamber is empty), you're just a robber – you don't get to choose if anyone dies.
You would be misunderstanding me if you think I'm trying to justify murder. The common, generally-agreed-upon definition of "murder" is a killing that is intentional, with "malice aforethought". The felony murder rule entirely contradicts this definition. By its very nature, felony murder applies to people who did not intend to commit it. In the context of their intentions, the felony murderer and the robber are the same.
So the question is back to: does intention matter? I think it should.
"Hey Jack! I found a stick! Check it out."At this point, Jacob, who has the stick, sharply spins and thrusts it as if he were casting a spell. However, he ends up forcefully jabbing Jack in the face with the stick.
"Cool! Let's play Harry Potter with it! Jacob, pretend the stick is a wand."
"Okay! Avada Kedavra!"
"Ow! Hey! That hurt! I'm gonna tell the teacher you hit me!"Jacob's right. He didn't mean to hit Jack. It happened accidentally. However, this doesn't change the fact that he hurt Jack. The question is: does it matter if Jacob meant for it to happen? Should the teacher punish Jacob, or should Jack forgive Jacob and forget the incident ever happened? Does intention matter?
"No, don't! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hit you!"
We see similar questions in far less humorous circumstances. Murder, in the simplest terms, is the intentional killing of a human being by another. Imagine a person – let's call him Bob – is walking down a road, and another person – we'll call him Dennis – is driving down that road, his car racing at 65 miles per hour. If Dennis hits Bob with the intention of killing him, Dennis is guilty of murder if Bob dies (and attempted murder if Bob doesn't die). This isn't too hard to understand.
However, what if Dennis had no intention of killing Bob? Consider this alternative scenario. Dennis is running late for work. He works a very stressful job, and if he isn't on time today, he will probably get fired. He has a family. In fact, his kids were the reason he was late – his wife was sick and the younger one hurt her hand and needed first aid. Without his income, Bob's family will likely struggle to put food on the table. Dennis's livelihood hinges upon making it to work on time. And so, he speeds down the road at 75 miles per hour in a 45 mile-per-hour zone, when all of a sudden, good ol' Bob walks down the street unsuspectingly. Dennis makes a desperate attempt to swerve around him. Perspiration forms over his forehead, tears stream down his face in an endless downpour as he realizes he's too late. His car slams into Bob, killing the man instantly.
Dennis is not guilty of murder because killing Bob was not his intention – far from it. In the United States, every state except three have what's called "vehicular homicide" laws. Speeding through a 45 mile-per-hour zone at 75 is incredibly dangerous, as Dennis found the hard way. In general, if a person drives dangerously and ends up killing someone as a result of it, that person is guilty of vehicular homicide. Even though Dennis didn't mean to kill Bob, he is still guilty of a crime. However, it is not as severe a crime as if he did mean to kill Bob. His intentions reduced his punishment. This idea isn't too foreign to most people – in common terms, it's "manslaughter": when a person kills another person criminally, but not with malicious intent.
Killing is bad. This is common sense morality. However, there is a common circumstance in which a person intentionally kills another human being, but is not guilty of murder. The issue lies in the nature of the killer's intentions – the nature can, indeed, justify the killing. Let's go back to the first Dennis – the one who actually committed murder – for an example. Dennis hopes to somehow get away with the crime. He can kiss those hopes goodbye, because unfortunately for him, a police officer has witnessed the event and is now in high-speed pursuit.
To avoid all confusion, this is not the same Dennis with the loving family. He is not late for work. He hated Bob so much that he killed him. But he doesn't want to go to jail. Accordingly, he floors the accelerator and speeds off over 100 miles per hour, police cruisers joining the chase behind him one-by-one, each with their blue-and-red lights flashing wildly, their sirens piercing the air, beseeching Dennis to end the insanity. Dennis weaves through traffic on the interstate, crosses a state line, and eventually lands in a parking lot, where he finds himself surrounded. The officers draw their firearms. Dennis, however, refuses to give up. He floors the accelerator once again, but loses control when he hits a police car. The officer in the car fires three shots into Dennis's car. Nevertheless, Dennis manages to regain control and once again floors the accelerator. The officers then fire 12 more shots at Dennis. Several of the gunshots hit their mark, causing Dennis to lose control again and crash. He dies as a result of his injuries.
This is a situation in which the police officers' intentionally used deadly force against another human being, and in doing so, killed that human. Yes, they did deliberately chose to shoot at Dennis – but for the intention of putting an end to this life-threatening chase. Are these officers guilty of a crime? Does their intention matter?
I based this scenario on a true story. The real-life Dennis – whose name was Donald Rickard – did not kill anyone, but at midnight on July 18, 2004, officers pulled Rickard over because one of his headlights wasn't working, and he sped off when the officers grew suspicious of his vehicle and asked him to step out. Rickard's daughter sued the police officers in federal court, alleging that their use of deadly force against Rickard to end the high-speed chase was excessive. Both the District Court and the Court of Appeals agreed, holding that the police officers' use of deadly force was not reasonable.
The Supreme Court disagreed. In Plumhoff v. Rickard (2014), the Supreme Court reversed the Court of Appeals, finding that the intention of the police officers was not malicious. Rickard was still trying to flee, and the officers knew that if he were allowed to escape, the continuation of the chase would lead to a serious, deadly threat to the safety of the public. When the officers shot at Rickard, their primary intention was to end the chase, to protect the public – they shot at Rickard because, given the circumstances, they thought they had no other choice. If they did not shoot, the chase would have gone on and would have quite likely killed more people – civilians and officers alike. Additionally, the Court found that fifteen shots was not considered excessive or indicative of malicious intent – if officers are justified in shooting to end a deadly threat to public safety, then they are justified to continue shooting until the threat is ended. For these reasons and others, the Court held unanimously that the police officers' use of deadly force was "objectively reasonable in light of the circumstances."
So it appears, then, that intention does matter...
Let's flip things over entirely and talk about a new, entirely different scenario. Hey, we can even throw in some second person – make this a bit more fun. Let's say you have been eyeing a jewelry store for some time now. One piece really attracts you. Problem is, you don't actually have the money to afford that piece of jewelry. So you suck it up and just stick to looking at it. But as time goes on, that piece of jewelry captures your attention more and more until it's all you can think about. Finally, you have had enough. You decide to take your gun and commit an armed robbery.
Of course, you don't actually want to kill anybody with your gun. You just need the gun as leverage to force the owner of the jewelry shop to hand over the piece you want so badly. You plan the heist tirelessly for several weeks. Finally, you're ready. You walk in, draw your weapon, point it at the shop owner and declare at the top of your lungs your intention: you want the piece of jewelry and you want it now. No amount of preparation, however, could have prepared you for what happens next.
Turns out, the jewelry shop owner has a gun of his own, hidden under the counter. He picks that up and shoots at you twice. The bullets miss you by inches – instead, they hit people behind you, innocent people. They die instantly. At this point, the confusion has stalled you long enough that your time has run out – the cops are here. They arrest you and charge you... with murder.
To be absolutely clear: you did not shoot your gun at all in the entire sequence of events. The shop owner was the one who shot at you (in self-defense) and who killed the bystanders. Your intention was not to kill innocents. But does your intention matter?
In all but four U.S. states (the exceptions being Ohio, Kentucky, Michigan and Hawaii), you can be found guilty of murder (no, not manslaughter or vehicular homicide – murder of the highest degree) even if your intention was not to kill – even if you didn't pull the trigger. In 24 of those states, you can receive the death penalty if you are convicted. The idea is called the "felony murder rule", and it dates back to eighteenth-century England (England has since abolished the rule). To put it simply: if you commit a dangerous felony (such as armed robbery), and a death happens during the commission of that felony, then you are guilty of murder. Your intentions do not matter.
Thus, the relevancy of intention in homicide law – at least in the United States – is rather contradictory. If it were applied to the case of Jack and Jacob from earlier: if they were simply playing Harry Potter – nothing more, nothing less – the teacher wouldn't punish Jacob for accidentally hitting Jack with a stick as severely as if he had intentionally done so. However, if, instead, Jacob was involved in a fight on the school playground, and while doing so, accidentally kicked a stick up into Jack's face – then Jacob would be punished for hitting Jack with a stick just as severely as if he had intentionally done so (and in addition to getting punished for being in a fight).
Is that fair? Proponents of the felony murder rule argue that it acts as a deterrent for dangerous felonies. They argue that if you're unhappy with a felony murder charge, you shouldn't have committed a felony in the first place. They argue that if you decide to commit a felony, you should be prepared to accept all the consequences of the felony.
Something about this troubles me. Yes, you should be prepared to accept all consequences of the felony. That concept is not in dispute. What is disputed is whether the felony murder rule is a valid consequence of the felony. The rule can deter felonies high and low, but being a deterrent doesn't change the fact that the person did not willingly kill another person. And obviously, committing a felony is an exceedingly poor decision, but that's what it is – a decision. You choose to commit a felony – it can be an willful decision (in which your intention is to commit the felony) or a negligent decision (in which you have made a decision so careless as to be criminal, e.g. a toy manufacturer using lead paint), but it's something you choose to do. Felony murder, on the other hand, is like Russian roulette: if someone dies (gun chamber is loaded), you're a murderer; if no one dies (chamber is empty), you're just a robber – you don't get to choose if anyone dies.
You would be misunderstanding me if you think I'm trying to justify murder. The common, generally-agreed-upon definition of "murder" is a killing that is intentional, with "malice aforethought". The felony murder rule entirely contradicts this definition. By its very nature, felony murder applies to people who did not intend to commit it. In the context of their intentions, the felony murderer and the robber are the same.
So the question is back to: does intention matter? I think it should.