Criminal Justice: Inside the Lie Box

CRIMINAL JUSTICE Inside the Lie Box

In the summer of 1965, two Fort Worth gas-station attendants reported that a couple of Negro gunmen had robbed them of $3,000 in broad day light. Not until a month later did the city's undermanned police force pick up a suspect. Then Negro Truck Driver Ervin Byrd, 33, was nabbed on an anonymous tip. Though he loudly pro tested his innocence, the cops were satisfied, and the victims quickly picked Byrd out of a lineup.

In fact, Byrd was totally innocent: his accusers had pocketed their employer's cash; they admitted their crime after flunking a lie-detector test given by the oil company. After they made up the loss, the company filed no charges, and no one notified the police. Byrd, unable to make bail, stayed in jail for almost six months, vainly pleading for a session with a lie-detector test himself. Not until last Jan. 31 did the prosecutor finally permit the test, which the truck driver passed with flying colors; not until last month did the police finally erase Byrd's "criminal record." Byrd himself must now erase the $8,000 in debts that his wife and four children racked up during their breadwinner's absence. Because of his experience, the polygraph, or "lie box," has suddenly achieved new popularity in Texas.

Slightly Embarrassing. The Fort Worth prosecutor promptly tested McKinley Powell, 36, another Negro truck driver, who had been accused of murder last June. Powell also passed—whereupon his accuser confessed the crime. The day after Powell's release, the prosecutor tested Donald G. Carter, 19, who had spent three months in jail awaiting trial for a burglary that he insisted he did not commit. Carter also passed; the police rechecked his story and belatedly discovered that he was telling them the truth from the start: he was in state prison on another charge at the time of the burglary.

Conceding that "this sort of thing is embarrassing," Fort Worth's top police announced a new policy: lie-detector tests for any suspect who requests one. Texas Attorney General Waggoner Carr suggested that the same policy may be advisable throughout the state. Amid all the good intentions, though, no one paid much heed to the hazards, notably the possibility of testing error and the fact that from now on, police may well assume the guilt of suspects who refuse the tests.