American Civil Liberties Union

As Washington Post columnist Colbert I. King rightly points out in a 2004 column, Jonathan Magbie's death four years ago was unlike those of so many other young, African-American men in Washington D.C. He wasn't gunned down or stabbed on the streets, it wasn't a house fire that prematurely ended his life and he didn't die in a car crash, though an accident he was in as a 4-year-old child left him paralyzed from the neck down. No, the death of Magbie, 27, is a tragic story of systemic failures to care for the most vulnerable members of our society, and the horrendous potential ramifications of our society's rush to criminalize through illogical and arbitrary drug laws. Magbie had never been convicted of any crime — he had absolutely no criminal record — when he was picked up in September 2004 for possessing a joint. He had a single marijuana cigarette, something Magbie said he sometimes smoked to alleviate the excruciating pain he was forced to endure as a result of a variety of maladies stemming from his paralysis. His arrest was only the beginning of a horrifying journey that would lead to Magbie dying while under the supposed watch of the D.C. government — alone, forgotten and uncared for. Magbie's death could have and should have been prevented at any number of different junctures. His life would have been spared had D.C. Superior Court Judge Judith E. Retchin chosen to give Magbie probation, the typical punishment for someone with no prior criminal record. Instead, saying that unless he spent time behind bars Magbie would continue to smoke marijuana to alleviate his pain, Retchin gave him a 10-day jail sentence despite the fact that D.C.'s Central Detention Facility didn't have a ventilator — something Magbie needed to be able to breathe properly while he slept at night. The day after his sentencing, a jail doctor called Retchin's law clerk to say that Magbie shouldn't be incarcerated given his overall medical condition. No matter: Magbie remained locked up. Magbie's life would have been spared had jail doctors done a follow-up examination of Magbie, or if they had even managed to conduct their daily rounds to check on patients. Neither happened. As a result, Magbie developed acute pneumonia which wasn't properly treated, he didn't receive necessary fluids or nutrition and he became severely dehydrated and malnourished. He slipped into acute respiratory crisis and died. His absurd punishment of 10 days in jail had become a death sentence. The ACLU National Prison Project this week announced the settlement of a wrongful death lawsuit filed on behalf of Magbie's mother and against a number of defendants, including D.C. officials. But even the "substantial" settlement won't bring Magbie back to life. As Edward J. Connor, another attorney representing Ms. Scott, said, "we can only hope this settlement will help to ensure that nothing like this ever happens again."

Jason and Jennifer O’Neill were married in Bucks County, Penn. in 2005, and for over two years they experienced all of the typical joys and challenges that invariably come during a young couple’s first years of matrimony.

But then, without warning, trouble unlike anything they could have ever anticipated arrived in their mailbox and threatened to shatter the life they were well on their way to building together.

The Bucks County Register of Wills had sent a letter informing the O’Neills that they might not really be married after all.

Say what?

They had put on a wedding. They have the pictures to prove it. They had filed their marriage license with the register of wills. They have a copy of it to prove that.

The problem? A shockingly broad and befuddling declaration by a York County judge stating that marriages are invalid if presided over by a minister who does not regularly serve a church or preach in a physical house of worship. That and a series of decisions by registers of wills across the state of Pennsylvania to issue letters to couples like the O’Neills informing them they should consider getting re-married because they might not be legally hitched. (you can see the actual letter the O'Neill's received in the mail on page 17 of this complaint.)

The O’Neill’s 2005 marriage ceremony was officiated by Jason’s uncle, a minister of the Universal Life Church whose primary vocation is not full-time ministry. Jason and Jennifer grew up in different religious traditions and chose Jason’s uncle to perform their wedding because they didn’t want to prioritize one of those traditions over the other. As a result, said Barbara G. Reilly, the Bucks County, Penn. register of wills, the couple might want to think about getting married again.

The O’Neills decided not to do so.

They don’t believe the state has any business invalidating marriages just because it doesn’t like the kind of ministers who officiated them. And re-marrying could be construed as a tacit admission that they hadn’t ever been married in the first place – potentially jeopardizing more then two years worth of benefits they had enjoyed as a married couple, from health insurance to tax benefits.

The ACLU of Pennsylvania has filed lawsuits on behalf of the O’Neills and two other couples who were married by ministers who were not at the time regularly serving a church or preaching in a physical house of worship. The aim is to get an appellate court ruling that their marriages are in fact valid - a ruling that would invalidate the York County judicial declaration.

But until then, if you live in Pennsylvania, keep a careful eye on your mail. You just never know when the state might try to ruin your marriage.

The North Carolina state Senate late Monday voted to repeal an historic 2009 law that would have helped ensure that death sentences handed down in the state were not the result of racial bias.

The Racial Justice Act allows death row prisoners like Marcus Robinson a hearing in which they can present statistics and other evidence showing that death sentences state- and county-wide were tainted by racism and that their death sentence should be commuted to life in prison without the possibility of parole.

When Ronnie Lee Gardner is strapped into a chair early on Friday morning, and a hood is placed over his head and a small white target is pinned over his heart, the citizens of Utah — and indeed the entire country — will be reminded in the most graphic of fashions of the nation's ongoing adherence to the barbaric, arbitrary and bankrupting practice of capital punishment.