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It took less than one drink to get Shannon Wilcutt busted for felony DUI

Continued from page 3

Published on March 18, 2008 at 4:45pm

And what about Shannon Wilcutt? With a child under 15 in the car, her offense was automatically a felony. She could have faced up to $150,000 in fines and fees, plus jail time.

The possibility of such harsh punishment is having a serious effect on the system, and it's not necessarily what lawmakers intended. Karyn Klausner is a former municipal court judge who now handles numerous DUI cases as a lawyer at the Gillespie Law Firm in Phoenix. She says more and more defendants are choosing to pay for lawyers — and go to trial — rather than face the Legislature's mandatory minimums. And the defendants are winning.

"In many instances, people don't have anything to lose by going to trial," Klausner says. "So we fight like hell. It's inundating the prosecutors, costing the state lots of money — and they're losing. These are decent prosecutors, but in a trial, you never know what's going to happen."

And here's the sick part. Harsh penalties make defendants squirm, but studies show that they don't actually prevent drunk drinking.

It's way too soon to see what effect Arizona's new DUI laws are having. It'll be at least two years before we have any data that show whether there's been a change in accident rates.

If history is any indicator, though, we may be disappointed.

Alexander Wagenaar is a professor of epidemiology and health policy at the University of Florida. He doesn't share my views about social drinkers; he admits he'd like to see the United States set the legal limit even lower than 0.08, as it is in Europe.

But Wagenaar has made his name by studying what actually reduces drunk driving — and his results might surprise Arizona legislators. Mandatory jail time and heavy fines, his studies conclude, are not effective deterrents.

Far more effective, researchers have found, are immediate license revocations. If it happens quickly, and happens to everyone who's busted, revocation can be a serious deterrent, Wagenaar says.

"If you're arrested for a DUI, and a year later you end up getting a $1,000 fine and a weekend in jail, that's a lot less effective of a deterrent than sitting at the roadside at 2 a.m., watching as they tow away your car," he says.

The point of long jail sentences and fat fines isn't deterrence — it's punishment, Wagenaar says.

"If a driver is endangering the lives of others, then justice demands you have a penalty. But whether it's the most effective preventative tool is a much more open question."


Nearly a year ago, I wrote about 83-year-old Phil Cisneros. His case doesn't have the most immediate link to Shannon Wilcutt and Diana Sifford, because Cisneros really was guilty — his blood alcohol content was well above 0.08.

But what happened to Phil Cisneros last year says a lot about our attitude toward DUIs and, indeed, toward anyone who gets caught in the criminal justice system here.

Here's the backstory: Cisneros had racked up a number of DUI convictions in the 1980s while his wife fought Alzheimer's and soon after her tragic death. But then he remarried, and seemed to be walking the straight and narrow. He stopped driving, for one thing; his neighbors in Maricopa would later aver to the court that they never saw him behind the wheel of a car. (See "Death Sentence," June 21, 2007.)

Then, returning from a trip to Mexico as a passenger in his new wife's car in early 2007, Cisneros was flagged by the border patrol and hauled away to jail. Turns out he had been convicted in absentia for his last DUI, in 1998, and had never showed up to serve his sentence.

Last spring, Gila County Judge Robert Duber sentenced him to three years in prison.

Not jail. Prison.

Cisneros' family — a huge, close-knit group — begged the judge. They said that the old man suffered from a host of health conditions: prostate cancer, diabetes, pulmonary hypertension, sleep apnea, shingles, and shortness of breath. He'd already had double bypass surgery.

He would surely die behind bars.

But the judge wouldn't relent. Neither, in fact, would the public. After I wrote about Cisneros' case, urging leniency, I heard from several readers who thought I was crazy. He'd driven drunk, they argued. He could have killed someone! (Never mind that, for all his DUIs, Cisneros had never hit anything, much less actually killed someone.) One man commenting on New Times' Web site said that drunk drivers were worse than drug dealers. Let 'em rot.

Well, those people got their wish. Phil Cisneros was repeatedly hospitalized during his prison stay, his lawyer, Jason Squires, tells me. Last month, he had a heart attack.

Cisneros had perfectly good insurance — he'd worked for a copper mining company. But because he was a ward of the state, we taxpayers had to foot the bill when Cisneros was checked into the hospital time and time again this winter. When he had his heart attack, we picked up the bill for his care.

Even worse, Cisneros' family had to deal with the pain of seeing their patriarch handcuffed to his death bed. That's the rule for incarcerated people who end up in the hospital, even a non-violent guy like Phil Cisneros.

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