Background: When the Supreme Court decided that the death -- and, later, life without parole (LWOP) -- sentences weren't okay for juveniles, California passed a statute that allowed eventual parole hearings for people who committed their crimes when they were under 18. (The California Supreme Court also added impetus to this effort, since it held that determinate sentences that effectively kept juveniles in prison for their entire lives -- e.g., sentences of 300 years -- were also impermissible.)
Thereafter, since we're a left-leaning jurisdiction, the Legislature gradually ratcheted up the relevant age cutoff; first to 23, then to 26, in recognition that frontal cortexes don't suddenly become fully functional at the ripe old age of 18. So, now, if you committed your offense at age 25 or younger, you're entitled to at least a shot at parole, albeit maybe only after a quarter century or so in prison. Still, you get an eventual attempt.
With one important caveat.
If you were under 18 at the time of your crime, the Supreme Court already said that LWOP sentences aren't okay for you. And if you were under 26 and didn't receive an LWOP sentence, then, great, you still have a shot.
But if you were between 18 and 25 when you committed your crime and got sentenced to LWOP, tough for you. No parole hearing.
Petitioner here received an LWOP sentence for a murder he committed when he was 25. He says that it violates equal protection to give every other youthful offender, but not people like him (i.e., people sentenced to LWOP for crimes between their 18th and 26th birthdays), the ability to receive a parole hearing.
The California Supreme Court rejects this claim, and, applying rational basis review, holds that it isn't unconstitutional to do what the Legislature has done. Even though people like Mr. Hardin may not have their frontal lobes fully developed at the time of their crime, the Legislature might rationally have felt that certain serious crimes (e.g., those for which the offender received an LWOP sentence -- generally, first-degree murder with special circumstances) should still be punished with life in prison even though the offender's brain wasn't fully developed.
In so holding, I suspect that California is not different from the overwhelming majority of -- or perhaps all -- other state supreme courts. I'd be surprised if other state supreme courts would readily go the other way and find the underlying distinction unconstitutional. Indeed, in most states (say, Alabama), I'm very confident that the state supreme court would literally laugh out loud at the mere mention of any such claim.
So in that way, California is, I suspect, no outlier.
But here's where we're different.
First, there's a dissent. One by Justice Liu, and one by Justice Evans. They think it's unconstitutional for a state to recognize that juvenile offenders have undeveloped brains and hence can potentially change and be amenable to rehabilitation and yet categorically exclude certain youthful offenders (e.g., LWOP offenders) from possible parole. Plus, both of them -- particularly Justice Evans -- note that there are underlying racial implications of this rule that both highlight its adverse consequences as well as maybe enhance the type of rational basis scrutiny that is otherwise employed in evaluating these principles.
That's different than most other states. You wouldn't see anything like that in most other state supreme courts. Particularly those in which state supreme court justices are directly elected (e.g., Texas, where such judges get elected in partisan elections.)
Second, even the majority is overtly sympathetic to Mr. Hardin's claim. You wouldn't see that in virtually any other state. Justice Kruger's opinion repeatedly mentions that the Court of Appeal has often encouraged the Legislature to revisit this issue and to think about providing potential parole hearings for all youthful offenders. Her majority opinion just says that this is a legislative issue, rather than an appropriate task for the courts. (The dissents obviously disagree.)
You can read the entire 118 pages (!) if you want. Both sides do a great job articulating their positions. Plus, it's the contemporary California Supreme Court, in which you get to view a lot of high-pitched dissents these days. So something relatively unusual. (Even then, it's nothing like the U.S. Supreme Court; here, both sides are incredibly respectful to the other's position, notwithstanding their competing views.)
I'll just say one other thing. Justices Liu and Evans make a strong argument in favor of providing at least the possibility of parole for youthful offenders, but honestly, I think that the true fight here is over LWOP sentences themselves. Justices Liu and Evans are surely correct when they say that people who commit even horrible crimes at age 25 may potentially change after, say, a quarter century in prison and thus at least possibly be worthy of a life outside of it.
But what's true for a 25 year old is also true for someone who commits that same offense at age 26. People can change. Yes, people at 18 (or 25) are perhaps more capable of changing than people at 26 (or even 40), as their brains develop and otherwise. But there's no categorical distinction. Some people are who they are at 20, and never change, whereas others are capable of even profound change at a much later stage in life.
Line-drawing is, of course, inherently arbitrary, and it seems absurd to say that someone who commits a murder the day before their 18th birthday should always get a parole hearing 25 years later (regardless of the severity of the crime) but that they should never receive one if they commit that same offense one day later. The true distinction here isn't really about the level of brain development. It's instead really a fight about whether people deserve at least a potential chance at proving that they're a different person now than the one who committed prior crime.
For some, the answer is a resounding "No" -- that some crimes are so heinous and reflect a certain type of character that no rehabilitation or chance at redemption is either possible or appropriate. Others take a contrary view.
(Here's the best 90-second articulation, IMHO, of the latter. Courtesy of Morgan Freeman. Start it at the 30 second mark.)
Regardless, today's opinion is uniquely Californian, I think. For better or worse.
