By Stuart Strome and Read Hayes

Organized Retail Crime (ORC) is large-scale theft or fraud of consumer products by groups of professional criminals. ORC includes more than just in-store theft, encompassing a variety of retail crimes, including shoplifting, gift card fraud, receipt and return fraud, ticket switching, cargo theft, as well as associated crimes such as forgery, money laundering, transportation of stolen goods across state lines, and racketeering. Due in part to the ability to easily resell certain items, ORC groups often target high-demand products (Clarke 1999; Smith 2018). ORC is a perennial problem for retailers, costing them billions of dollars in lost sales. According to one report, ORC is responsible for a loss of $700,000 per every one billion dollars in sales (NRF 2017, ). Furthermore, ORC affects almost every category of retail, as 94% of retailers reported being victims. Therefore, understanding this costly problem, and its relationship to other types of crime is key to understanding how to better combat ORC. The rise of ORC as an endemic phenomenon coincides with the increase in illicit use and sale of opioids in the United States. Deaths from opioid overdose exceeded 42,000 in 2017, and deaths from powerful synthetic opioids, such as fentanyl, have doubled between 2015 and 2017 (Morgan and Jones 2018), . A recent publication places the costs of the opioid crisis at $500 billion, although estimates range as high as $1 trillion (Ryan 2018). Indeed, this epidemic has coincided with a rise in arrests for opioid possession, and there is some speculation that the opioid crisis is related to recent rises in the homicide rate (Rosenfeld 2018, ; Kennedy and Abt 2016). However, while a recent article by CNBC sheds light on the potential relationship between the opioid crisis and ORC, there is little systematic study on that relationship (Brewer and Zamost 2017). More importantly, understanding the relationship between ORC and the opioid crisis necessitates better understanding what drives opioid offenders, and how their patterns of crime, and motivations, differ from other offenders.  

Gainesville, FL: Loss Prevention Research Council, 2019? 12p.

By Chesa Boudin   

As San Francisco District Attorney, I was elected in late 2019 on an ambitious platform focused on ending mass incarceration and decreasing  racial disparities in the criminal justice system. Little did I imagine that my first year in office would bring an acute national focus to the exact issues on which I had campaigned. Two phenomena have, thus far, largely defined the year 2020. First, the COVID-19 pandemic, which continues to have a grossly disparate impact on communities of color2 and on those living and working in prisons and jails. Second, a national Black Lives Matter movement grew in response to the murder of George Floyd—potentially the largest national movement in U.S. history—demanding police accountability and criminal justice reform with a focus on racial equity. The nation’s collective response to these developments—how the country navigates an unprecedented national health crisis and an unprecedented protest movement—will have lasting implications for myriad aspects of American life, including the criminal justice system. COVID-19 and the growth of the Black Lives Matter movement created a tremendous impetus for wide-ranging criminal justice reform, including decarceration and police accountability. Although some criminal justice jurisdictions have actively resisted change, and others have simply been unprepared for it, San Francisco was ready. After all, San Francisco voters had just elected me on explicit promises to deliver many of the reforms now in the national spotlight, and we were changemaking   

110 J. Crim. L. & Criminology Online 23 (2020).   

By Thea Johnson   

In the midst of the coronavirus pandemic, activists and advocates have rightly focused their attention on the immediate need to decrease the number of people in jails and prisons.1 Jails and prisons have been ravaged by the  virus and defendants are at real risk of illness or death in those spaces.2 But as the crisis continues and the backlog of criminal cases grows, defendants face additional risks. This essay focuses on one such risk: the heightened risk for coerced and false pleas during the crisis. The vehicle by which the criminal system resolves most criminal cases—the plea bargain —is ripe for abuse and overuse in the best of times. Unfortunately, now is far from the best of times, and as I outline here, there are several reasons why the usual risk factors for coercive plea bargaining are exacerbated during this public health crisis. Furthermore, despite recent efforts to reform the plea system, the pandemic risks entrenching many of the most negative characteristics of plea bargaining even more deeply. Quite simply, the coercive nature of plea bargaining will get worse in a system that is backlogged and unable to hold jury trials for several months. Many states are not counting the delays caused by the coronavirus toward a defendant’s speedy trial clock, which means the cases can remain active for long periods of time and without any risk to the prosecutor that the case will be dismissed for lack of prosecution. For a defendant in this backlogged system, with a case hanging over her head and a speedy trial clock without finality, the plea will be her only option. In such an environment, coercive pleas can and will flourish. This essay proceeds in three parts. Part I of the essay discusses the particular concerns related to coercive plea bargaining during the COVID-19 crisis. Part II offers solutions to these issues and suggests that this moment may provide opportunities for creative problem-solving capable of outlasting the virus. Finally, Part III discusses some silver linings of the crisis for the criminal system at large and the practice of plea bargaining in particular. Like many other recent pieces about the impact of coronavirus on the criminal justice system, this essay addresses the current crisis in the hopes that it will teach us important lessons about the system more broadly. By seeing some of the worst parts of the system exposed through COVID-19, we may be able to better meet future challenges and tackle some of the underlying daily injustices of the modern criminal process.  

110 J. Crim. L. & Criminology Online 1 (2020).

By Ryan T. Cannon   

You have been arrested. You are put in handcuffs and transported to a local jail where you are fingerprinted and photographed. The crime you are charged with is not serious or violent, but you have prior criminal convictions, or perhaps a history of not coming to court when told—making you ineligible for a future release on your own recognizance. Bail was set, but like most others in the cell you occupy, you cannot pay even the smallest bond. You are facing a period of pretrial detention. A week passes without being brought to see a judge for your arraignment. Then another week passes. If you are lucky, you may have spoken to an attorney on the phone, but no one has come to the jail to see you. All around, individuals are beginning to talk about a mysterious new illness. As you continue to sit in pretrial detention, the spread of the novel coronavirus among prisoners rises quickly. By the week of April 22, 2020 the number of confirmed cases in prisons grew three-fold—from 1,643 to  6,664.1 By the middle of September, 2020 the count was up to 132,677, with 1,108 reported deaths. Mass testing reveals that the number of prisoners who have contracted the virus is far greater than expected, partly because of the number of people who carry the virus without exhibiting symptoms. Many facilities cannot conduct mass testing of inmates, and others choose not to test at all. For you and the inmates around you not yet infected, precautionary measures are largely nonexistent. You are locked in a facility where social distancing—the primary method for avoiding transmission—is practically impossible. It is unlikely that you have ready access to hand sanitizer or face masks.  Prisons and jails begin using solitary confinement as a method of quarantining..... 

110 J. Crim. L. & Criminology Online 91 (2020)