A Car Is Not a Pirate Ship
by Stuart Taylor, Jr.
It’s hard to know whether to laugh or cry at the Supreme Court’s 5-4 decision on March 4 upholding the state of Michigan’s forfeiture of Tina Bennis’ half-interest in a family car.
Her offense was… well, nothing. Her husband was the offender. He had been caught in their car receiving oral sex from a prostitute, while parked on a Detroit street after ending his shift at a steel mill. Mrs. Bennis had been at home, wondering where he was, calling the missing persons bureau.
The Court did not hold that Mrs. Bennis had reason to know of her husband’s sordid little tryst. Nor did it rely on Solicitor General Drew Days III’s incredibly lame assertion (in an amicus brief) that Mrs. Bennis had not done enough to prevent her husband from using their car to betray her. Nor did it question her claim that she had recently paid for most of the $600 car with her own hard-earned money from baby-sitting and other chores.
Rather, the Court held in Bennis v. Michigan that none of this mattered. The state not only could confiscate and sell the car (as Mrs. Bennis conceded), but could use the proceeds of her $300 share to pay its costs and keep any money that might be left over. All this, done under the authority of a state nuisance statute aimed at purging neighborhoods of prostitution, was consistent with due process of law.
This result was dictated, Chief Justice William Rehnquist held for the majority, by some precedents dating back to the era of pirate ships and privateers. Widely regarded (at least until Bennis) as having been undermined by more recent decisions, those anachronistic precedents allow governments to forfeit the interests of innocent owners of properties used for illegal purposes, based on the outmoded legal Fiction that the property is somehow the guilty party.