Is a man’s home his castle? Apparently not in Indiana.

Here’s a breathtakingly broad decision: The Indiana Supreme Court, in Barnes v. State (pdf), ruled 2 days ago that “there is no right to reasonably resist unlawful entry by police officers” into your home. As NWI.com explains the decision:

In a 3-2 decision, Justice Steven David writing for the court said if a police officer wants to enter a home for any reason or no reason at all, a homeowner cannot do anything to block the officer’s entry.

“We believe … a right to resist an unlawful police entry into a home is against public policy and is incompatible with modern Fourth Amendment jurisprudence,” David said. “We also find that allowing resistance unnecessarily escalates the level of violence and therefore the risk of injuries to all parties involved without preventing the arrest.”

David said a person arrested following an unlawful entry by police still can be released on bail and has plenty of opportunities to protest the illegal entry through the court system.

Justice Robert D. Rucker, in dissent, relied on the formerly well-founded belief that one’s home is one’s castle:

In Miller v. United States, 357 U.S. 301, 313-14 (1958) the United States Supreme Court held that it was unlawful to arrest the defendant on criminal charges when a warrantless arrest was conducted by police officers breaking and entering the defendant‘s apartment without expressly announcing the purpose of their presence or demanding admission. In recounting the historical perspective for its holding the Court quoted eighteenth century remarks attributed to William Pitt, Earl of Chatham, on the occasion of a debate in Parliament:

“The poorest man may in his cottage bid defiance to all the forces of the Crown. It may be frail; its roof may shake; the wind may blow through it; the storm may enter; the rain may enter; but the King of England cannot enter – all his force dares not cross the threshold of the ruined tenement!”

Id. at 307. The same is no less true today and applies equally to forces of the State.

A cell phone really (not just abstractly) is different than an address book.

The Ohio Supreme Court ruled yesterday (pdf) that police officers must obtain a search warrant before searching the contents of a suspect’s cell phone unless the officers’ safety is at stake. The specific data at issue were the records of the telephone calls made to and from the suspect’s cell phone.  As the court made clear, “[o]nce the cell phone is in police custody, the state has satisfied its immediate interest in collecting and preserving evidence and can take preventive steps to ensure that the data found on the phone is neither lost nor erased. But because a person has a high expectation of privacy in a cell phone’s contents, police must then obtain a warrant before intruding into the phone’s contents.” Slip op., ¶23.

In reaching its decision, the court first distinguished cell phones from “closed containers,” “physical objects capable of holding other physical objects.” Such objects on or in the vicinity of a suspect are subject to search without a warrant. ” Indeed, the United States Supreme Court has stated that in this situation, ‘container’ means ‘any object capable of holding another object.’  One such example is a cigarette package containing drugs found in a person’s pocket.” Id., ¶19 (citations omitted). The dissenin the Ohio case concluded that the cell phone is a “closed container” because “a cell phone’s digital address book is akin to traditional address books carried on the person. Courts have upheld police officers’ search of an address book found on an arrestee’s person during a search incident to a lawful arrest.  The phone’s call list is similar, showing a list of telephone numbers that called to or were called from the phone.” Id., ¶34.

The dissent’s reasoning seems odd. The phone’s call list is not “similar” to an “address book.” The call list is electronically generated by making and receiving telephone calls, and thus is the same kind of electronically generated information regularly produced by, among other devices, your laptop. Thus, the majority of the court were convinced that because modern cell phones “have the capacity for storing immense amounts of private information” they are thus are more like laptop computers, in which arrestees have significant privacy interests — in contrast to address books or pagers found on their persons, in which defendants have lesser privacy interests. Id., ¶18. The court did not equate cell phones precisely to laptops (though no doubt iPhone users might take exception to the court’s failure to do so), but the similarity, in combination with the fact the police have the means necessary by warrant to obtain information from a cell phone, compelled the court’s conclusion:

Although cell phones cannot be equated with laptop computers, their ability to store large amounts of private data gives their users a reasonable and justifiable expectation of a higher level of privacy in the information they contain. Once the cell phone is in police custody, the state has satisfied its immediate interest in collecting and preserving evidence and can take preventive steps to ensure that the data found on the phone is neither lost nor erased. But because a person has a high expectation of privacy in a cell phone’s contents, police must then obtain a warrant before intruding into the phone’s contents. Id., ¶24.

The dissent, on the other hand, unable to distinguish a cell phone from an address book, accused the majority of “needlessly embark[ing] upon a review of cell phone capabilities in the abstract.” Id., ¶30.

Funny, I didn’t know that the review of differences between cell phones and address books in 2009 required “abstract” thinking.