The right to be presumed innocence; the right to privacy; the right to equal protection under the law; the right to travel, marry, or have children and the right of a woman to terminate her pregnancy—these are a few of the many constitutional rights never mentioned explicitly in the Constitution. Such rights can be, but often aren't, supported by invoking the Ninth Amendment. Because of its open-endedness, the Ninth Amendment is still mired in an ill-fated perception as a constitutional nonentity and a legislative tradition that ignores its potential. As an antidote to this entrenched tradition, Calvin R. Massey presents a comprehensive and sensible account of how the Ninth Amendment could be, and has been, used to secure and preserve individual rights. For example, in a recent ruling the Supreme Court held that the right to terminate pregnancy was protected by the due process clause; in doing so, it cited the Ninth Amendment. By looking at such decisions and at its various interpretations in the literature, Massey explores the Ninth Amendment's original meaning and function, and the intention of its authors to prevent the creation of implied powers in the federal government and ensure that the bill of rights not become an exhaustive list of human rights. Massey presents a new method for recognizing implied constitutional rights and the possible contemporary role of the Ninth Amendment in constitutional law—a formula in which state constitutions would assume a larger role in fashioning unenumerated rights and the Supreme Court's voice would be less final. Author note:Calvin R. Masseyis Professor of Law at Hastings College of the Law, University of California, San Francisco, and the co-author ofThe California State Constitution.

The face of the pedestrian safety crisis looks a lot like Ignacio Duarte-Rodriguez. The 77-year old grandfather was struck in a hit-and-run crash while trying to cross a high-speed, six-lane road without crosswalks near his son’s home in Phoenix, Arizona. He was one of the more than 6,000 people killed while walking in America in 2018. In the last ten years, there has been a 50 percent increase in pedestrian deaths. The tragedy of traffic violence has barely registered with the media and wider culture. Disproportionately the victims are like Duarte-Rodriguez—immigrants, the poor, and people of color. They have largely been blamed and forgotten. In Right of Way, journalist Angie Schmitt shows us that deaths like Duarte-Rodriguez’s are not unavoidable “accidents.” They don’t happen because of jaywalking or distracted walking. They are predictable, occurring in stark geographic patterns that tell a story about systemic inequality. These deaths are the forgotten faces of an increasingly urgent public-health crisis that we have the tools, but not the will, to solve. Schmitt examines the possible causes of the increase in pedestrian deaths as well as programs and movements that are beginning to respond to the epidemic. Her investigation unveils why pedestrians are dying—and she demands action. Right of Way is a call to reframe the problem, acknowledge the role of racism and classism in the public response to these deaths, and energize advocacy around road safety. Ultimately, Schmitt argues that we need improvements in infrastructure and changes to policy to save lives. Right of Way unveils a crisis that is rooted in both inequality and the undeterred reign of the automobile in our cities. It challenges us to imagine and demand safer and more equitable cities, where no one is expendable.

Argues that the Supreme Court would do better to rely on the Ninth Amendment when addressing issues regarding fundamental rights, rather than depending on the Constitution's due process clause.

The right to remain silent, guaranteed by the famed Fifth Amendment case, Miranda v. Arizona, is perhaps one of the most easily recognized and oft-quoted constitutional rights in American culture. Yet despite its ubiquity, there is widespread misunderstanding about the right and the protections promised under the Fifth Amendment. In Is There a Right to Remain Silent? renowned legal scholar and bestselling author Alan Dershowitz reveals precisely why our Fifth Amendment rights matter and how they are being reshaped, limited, and in some cases revoked in the wake of 9/11. As security concerns have heightened, law enforcement has increasingly turned its attention from punishing to preventing crime. Dershowitz argues that recent Supreme Court decisions have opened the door to coercive interrogations--even when they amount to torture--if they are undertaken to prevent a crime, especially a terrorist attack, and so long as the fruits of such interrogations are not introduced into evidence at the criminal trial of the coerced person. In effect, the court has given a green light to all preventive interrogation methods. By deftly tracing the evolution of the Fifth Amendment from its inception in the Bill of Rights to the present day, where national security is the nation's first priority, Dershowitz puts forward a bold reinterpretation of the Fifth Amendment for the post-9/11 world. As the world we live in changes from a "deterrent state" to the heightened vigilance of today's "preventative state," our construction, he argues, must also change. We must develop a jurisprudence that will contain both substantive and procedural rules for all actions taken by government officials in order to prevent harmful conduct-including terrorism. Timely, provocative, and incisively written, Is There a Right to Remain Silent? presents an absorbing look at one of our most essential constitutional rights at one of the most critical moments in recent American history.

The world watched in horror in April 2007 when Virginia Tech student Seung-Hui Cho went on a killing rampage that resulted in the deaths of thirty-two students and faculty members before he ended his own life. Former Virginia Tech English department chair and distinguished professor Lucinda Roy saw the tragedy unfold on the TV screen in her home and had a terrible realization. Cho was the student she had struggled to get to know–the loner who found speech torturous. After he had been formally asked to leave a poetry class in which he had shared incendiary work that seemed directed at his classmates and teacher, Roy began the difficult task of working one-on-one with him in a poetry tutorial. During those months, a year and a half before the massacre, Roy came to realize that Cho was more than just a disgruntled young adult experimenting with poetic license; he was, in her opinion, seriously depressed and in urgent need of intervention. But when Roy approached campus counseling as well as others in the university about Cho, she was repeatedly told that they could not intervene unless a student sought counseling voluntarily. Eventually, Roy’s efforts to persuade Cho to seek help worked. Unbelievably, on the three occasions he contacted the counseling center staff, he did not receive a comprehensive evaluation by them–a startling discovery Roy learned about after Cho’s death. More revelations were to follow. After responding to questions from the media and handing over information to law enforcement as instructed by Virginia Tech, Roy was shunned by the administration. Papers documenting Cho’s interactions with campus counseling were lost. The university was suddenly on the defensive. Was the university, in fact, partially responsible for the tragedy because of the bureaucratic red tape involved in obtaining assistance for students with mental illness, or was it just, like many colleges, woefully underfunded and therefore underequipped to respond to such cases? Who was Seung-Hui Cho? Was he fully protected under the constitutional right to freedom of speech, or did his writing and behavior present serious potential threats that should have resulted in immediate intervention? How can we balance students’ individual freedom with the need to protect the community? These are the questions that have haunted Roy since that terrible day. No Right to Remain Silent is one teacher’s cri de coeur–her dire warning that given the same situation today, two years later, the ending would be no less terrifying and no less tragic.

If the words "beautiful prison" are hard to say, does that explain why architects seldom, if ever, talk or write about the artistic merits and functional failures of asylum and prison design? In an attempt to understand this silence, and the absence of asylums and prisons in competitions seeking honors for excellence in design, the papers in this book examine what may be architects' most difficult field of work. In North America architects are required by law to design institutional buildings, but with political change, their clients often change their minds, demanding civilized or brutal confinement in turn. When brutality or indifferent treatment is required that aggravates crime or madness, to do the work an architect must defy his/her code of ethics which demands service in the public interest. Architects are not alone with this quandary. This book concludes that resolution of this discussion requires that when a client and an architect know the intentions and consequences of a buildings design and operations, they must share the moral and functional responsibilities of the work.

A lifetime of hard-won wisdom and insight into the human heart is contained in this collection of eighty impassioned essays on ethical and spiritual issues ranging from racial injustice and the abuses of power to the legacy of the Holocaust, from the evolving relationship between American Jewry and Israel to raising morally sensitive children, from the mystery of death to the meaning of God in the modern world. If there is a single motif dominating this treasury of rabbinic wisdom, it is the need for ethical accountability on the part of both individuals and institutions. Each of these sermons faces life's dilemmas squarely with courage and a deep understanding of the complexities of human nature. They do not offer facile answers to difficult questions nor are they ever self-righteous but rather thoughtful, reflective, sensitive, often funny, intensely Jewish and deeply human, deriving their profound insights from Jewish tradition and the joys and sufferings of the author's own life. The best sermon is a reflection of wisdom forged by experience and infused with ancient truths. The best sermon is a well-lived life.