0:00 On June third, 1961, someone broke into the Bay Harbor Poolroom in Panama City, Florida, and made off with some beer, wine, and about sixty dollars in change from a jukebox.0:12 The man arrested for this petty crime was a fifty-year-old drifter named Clarence Earl Gideon, and his case would transform American justice as profoundly as the one we discussed last week, which gave us our Miranda rights.0:28 But where the Miranda warning concerns what happens before you get to court, Gideon’s story is about what happens when you stand before a judge, utterly alone.0:39 When Gideon appeared in court, he was too poor to hire a lawyer.0:44 He asked the judge to appoint one for him.0:47 The judge refused.0:48 At the time, Florida law only required the state to provide counsel in capital cases — that is, cases where the death penalty was on the table.0:58 For a simple felony like breaking and entering, Gideon was on his own.1:03 He tried to represent himself, questioning witnesses and making a closing statement.1:09 It went about as well as you’d expect.1:12 He was convicted and sentenced to five years in prison.1:16 Now, many people in that situation might have simply served their time.1:21 But Gideon was convinced his rights had been violated.1:25 In the prison library, with a pencil and prison-issue paper, he began to study the law.1:31 He drafted, by hand, a petition to the Supreme Court of the United States.1:36 He argued that the court’s refusal to appoint a lawyer for him violated his Sixth Amendment right to counsel.1:44 It was a long shot, a single handwritten letter sent from a prison cell to the highest court in the land.1:52 And the Court… agreed to hear his case.1:54 This is the step that changes everything.1:57 The Supreme Court doesn't take cases lightly.2:01 In agreeing to hear Gideon v.2:03 Wainwright, the justices were signaling they were ready to re-examine a fundamental question: Does the Bill of Rights apply with the same force in state courts as it does in federal ones?2:16 For twenty years, the answer had been a qualified "no." A 1942 case, Betts v.2:21 Brady, had ruled that states only had to provide a lawyer in "special circumstances"—if the defendant was illiterate, for example, or the case was unusually complex.2:33 Otherwise, it was up to the states.2:36 Gideon’s case put that precedent directly on trial.2:39 The question was simple: Is having a lawyer a special circumstance, or is it ESSENTIAL for a fair trial, every single time?2:48 On March eighteenth, 1963, the Court answered with a single, unanimous voice.2:54 Justice Hugo Black wrote the majority opinion, and his words are the foundation of our modern legal system.3:01 He wrote, "Reason and reflection require us to recognize that in our adversary system of criminal justice, any person haled into court, who is too poor to hire a lawyer, cannot be assured a fair trial unless counsel is provided for him." He went on to call the right to counsel “fundamental.” It wasn't a luxury.3:24 It wasn't optional.3:25 It was a necessity.3:26 The Court declared that governments, both state and federal, spend vast sums to hire prosecutors and investigate crimes.3:35 It was only fair that a person accused of a crime, who could not afford a lawyer, should be given one.3:42 The old ruling in Betts v.3:44 Brady was overturned.3:46 The world changed.3:47 So what did this mean, in practice?3:49 It meant that every state was now constitutionally required to provide legal counsel to indigent defendants in all felony cases.3:58 This decision is the reason that public defender offices exist in nearly every county in the United States.4:06 It's the reason that when a person is arrested and cannot afford a lawyer, the court says, "one will be provided for you." It is a promise, etched into law, that justice should not depend on the size of your bank account.4:22 Of course, the promise is not always perfectly kept.4:26 Public defender systems are often tragically underfunded and overworked.4:31 But the principle, the RIGHT, endures.4:34 And it exists because a man in a Florida prison cell believed the Constitution meant what it said.
