This chapter explores illicit means of obtaining food in the ghettos including smuggling, black market purchases, and food theft. The chapter discusses the ways in which geographical location impacted what types of illicit food access were available to individuals in the ghettos, how and at what time frame these illicit means might be prosecuted, and methods employed to illicitly obtain food. It juxtaposes large-scale and small-scale projects for obtaining additional food. It also includes a study of the black market prices in the three different ghettos and what factors impacted food prices.

The second power of the police is used to collect evidence and people, either summarily or by warrant, and present them to a magistrate for adjudication, principally in matters of criminal law. The traditional model assumes the purpose is to establish guilt and determine the appropriate punishment, with the result being incarceration and the harmful and disruptive consequences that often follow from it. A broader conception considers that the law is what signals the government’s legitimate interest in regulating a behavior owing to its risks and consequences, or the manner in which it violates rights, and these statutes are what empower the police to operationalize the government’s interest. This does not mean, however, that the necessary response should always be punitive; it can instead be linkage to care, treatment, or other interventions that address behavior. The chapter closes by observing that the criminal law is nonetheless what empowers the police to act in response to behaviors regardless of the consent or intentions of others, and if the government wishes to retain this ability while shifting crisis response away from police, it will need to solve the puzzle of how actors not empowered by the criminal law can otherwise decisively represent the government’s regulatory interests regarding individual behavior.

How do you read a patent and what subject matter is patentable? What is the purpose of a patent? Who is an inventor on the patent if work is done by many people on the project? What is the process of obtaining a patent in my country and globally? Read this chapter to see how you could lose commercialization rights to your own invention. When exactly does an invention or idea become patentable? Once you own a patent, how can you make money from it? What is the process of licensing and the key terms that should be negotiated in such a license agreement? What is the use of a copyright or a trade secret in biotech? What exactly constitutes patent infringement ? These questions and many others are addressed in this chapter on intellectual property.

Tennessee’s fetal assault law was originally proposed in the spring of 2013. It became law about a year later, in the spring of 2014. It remained in effect until June 30, 2016. The law was proposed again in the spring of 2019, but that proposal did not make it out of committee. Although the United States has a long history of prosecuting women for this conduct, Tennessee’s law was the first and, as of this writing, the only state law of its kind in the United States.2 Before moving on to how the law was justified by those who supported it, we first need to understand some information about how the law was structured. This chapter begins with that information and then moves into the hearing rooms where the fetal assault law was debated.

The Lava Jato (or “Car Wash”) corruption investigation offers an important case study of the evolution of legal accountability in consolidating democracies. This chapter evaluates the origins of the investigation and the early successes of prosecutors, analyzes why Lava Jato initially succeeded where numerous previous cases had floundered, discusses the causes and likely consequences of the investigation’s declining effectiveness and ultimate neutering, and reflects on what this experience suggests about legal accountability in Brazil and other democracies facing long-festering patterns of elite collusion, corruption and impunity.

Australian indigenous peoples are among the world’s most incarcerated populations. The nineteenth century origins of this fact lie in Australian legal histories, of the interaction of indigenous peoples and British criminal law introduced in the course of colonisation. This chapter considers first the assertion of criminal jurisdiction in law and statute in the early nineteenth century, paying attention to some significant differences between the colonies. Second, we look at some elements of criminal trial, including the treatment of Aboriginal evidence and the role of interpreters. Third, the chapter examines the importance of the criminal justice system’s putative concern with victimisation and the justice due to victims. Finally we consider some evidence about the system-wide impacts of the assertion of criminal jurisdiction over indigenous peoples, including patterns of prosecution and punishment. Understanding these legal histories makes clear how the legal system’s professed principles of justice and fairness compounded discrimination and disadvantage.

Chapter 9 explores the many situations in which new IP is developed under a licensing or other agreement, and how that IP is owned and licensed. Attention is given both to licensee developments (improvements and derivative works of licensed rights), which may be subject to grantback and license-back arrangements (Kennedy v. NJDA) and new IP developed by a licensor under a services arrangement (e.g., commissioned works, customizations) (IXL v. AdOutlet) and the incorporation of third party components in developed technologies. The chapter also addresses the complex issues that arise from joint development of IP, including treatment of foreground, background and sideground IP, and how IP is used in the context of joint ventures (Pav-Saver v. Vasso). The chapter concludes with a discussion of the allocation of responsibility for IP management, maintenance and prosecution.

No animal is immune from becoming a victim of human abuse and cruelty. Whether wild, or domestic, animals unfortunately often suffer at the hands of humans. This chapter explores how the criminal justice system, specifically within the confines of Colorado law, aims to hold animal abusers accountable and provides an overview of applicable statutory provisions and case examples. Written from one Colorado prosecutor’s perspective, this chapter asserts that the prosecution of animal cruelty offenders is essential for three primary reasons. First, the pursuit of criminal charges can be the impetus for the removal of the victim animal from the defendant-abuser’s custody (and thereby helps to safeguard the victim animal). Second, the levying of criminal charges sends a strong message to both the defendant-abuser and society as a whole that the proper and humane treatment of animals matters. Third, the imposition of a sentence upon conviction – whether punitive, rehabilitative, or a combination thereof – serves as an intervention and helps to ensure that the conduct is not repeated

The “vulgar,” as political actors, would play important roles in the resistance to imperial policies, and the “vulgar,” as political speech, would inform the eraʼs confrontational political dialogue. The language of protest in the 1760s and 1770s expressed political critique not only of imperial policies but also of the legal institutions and practices that promoted them. In fact, genteel cultural and political authority, which had been drawn from conduct and courtesy books and the polite coffeehouses of the metropole and extended through statutes and courtrooms, was severely tested by protest and rebellion. Under the previous regime, as politeness joined piety as a core cultural value for the Massachusetts elite, the language of statutes, prosecutions, and depositions had shifted to the rhetoric of gentility in addition to godliness. General sessions courts had imagined the portion of good social order, “the king’s peace,” that had to do with speech as a nearly exclusively masculine space governed by the metropolitan code of refinement. Prosecutions for vulgar speech had constructed a social hierarchy based in politeness, but it would not survive the Revolution intact.

The Conclusion draws together the major contributions that the monograph makes. It recognises orphanage trafficking intersects with child protection, tourism and development and argues for a comprehensive approach to the issue.

Chapter 5 articulates recommendations for responding to orphanage trafficking as a form of child trafficking. The chapter advocates for a comprehensive multi-sector framework that focuses on both anti-trafficking and child protection mechanisms to combat orphanage trafficking using the three pillars for addressing human trafficking that are found in the Trafficking Protocol: prosecution, prevention and protection. Using this framework, the chapter recommends that countries respond to orphanage trafficking through criminalising and prosecuting orphanage trafficking as a form of child trafficking; preventing orphanage trafficking through addressing vulnerability, demand, corruption and complicity; and providing protection and assistance for child victims and survivors of orphanage trafficking focusing on identification, reintegration and access to remedies. The chapter advocates that a child-rights-based approach with a focus on prevention and protection, as opposed to just prosecution, must be at the centre of implementation of this framework.

Chapter Six explores the third and last constitutive stage of human dignity in international criminal law. Human dignity’s first manifestations coincide with the adoption and entry into force of the Hague Law (1899 and 1907) and the largely symbolic, in retrospect, Article 227 of the 1919 Treaty of Versailles, under which the German Kaiser was to be brought to justice, although that did not happen. In 1945, with the Nuremberg Statute, human dignity is unequivocally enshrined in legal form, both in the definition of international crimes, including ‘against humanity’, and in the necessary corollary of an international prosecution of such crimes. The institutional and legal criminal framework of the 1990s, however, provides a more solid basis for the consolidation of human dignity through international criminal law, vesting it with an actionable nature. Aside from the expansion of conflict-specific international tribunals, the conclusion in 1998 of the Rome Statute establishing a general International Criminal Court, defining both crimes and institutional processes for the prosecution, consolidates the incremental approach prevailing until them in international criminal law.

This chapter looks at how other ICTR actors influenced the way in which the archive was contested. It begins by returning to the themes set out at the end of Chapter 2 and explores how the legal actors of the court initially pursued an expansive approach to the trials in search of truth, justice and reconciliation. However, this approach to prosecutions changed over time as the tribunal began to focus simply on getting as many verdicts as possible, as quickly as possible. As such, the conception of justice underpinning the archive became far more restricted and more closely resembled a more traditional form of retributive justice. This, then, shows the fragmenting of the tribunal’s initial purpose. This chapter identifies three main factors behind this shift: the solidification of the legal rules that underpinned the trials; the relationship between the tribunal and other UN organs – and particularly the Security Council’s decision in early 2000s that the tribunal had to close down as quickly as possible; and the ICTR’s acquiescence to the RPF’s demands that the tribunal halt investigations into RPF crimes during the genocide.

Caesar is usually supposed to have sought to exploit his legal immunity as proconsul to escape judgment for his "crimes," and when he was prevented from doing so, to have plunged Rome into the first of the civil wars that would destroy the Republic. This is based on the ill-founded hypothesis that he was bound to face prosecution on his return to Rome with a predetermined verdict engineered by his enemies. In fact, what Caesar demanded was an honorific return from his victory in Gaul that was consistent with republican norms and traditions, while his inveterate enemies, now joined in increasing anxiety by Pompey, rejected his demands, fearing that if they did not do so he would escape the reckoning that they hoped for. To quash Caesar’s plans his enemies were "forced" to jettison various core principles of the Roman republican tradition, but most Roman citizens likely saw Caesar not as a rebel against "the Republic" but as its defender against a faction bent on vengeance. Neither Caesar nor Pompey appears to have sought this war; ultimately Cato and his faction forced this confrontation.

Chapter 2 introduces the book’s two institutional protagonists: the Israeli legal system and the liberal human rights community. Their key characteristics are outlined, their shared fetishization of law is examined, and the intricate dynamic within and between them is described. Issues and trends in their approaches to young Palestinians are identified. The chapter expands on the mass prosecution and incarceration of Palestinians, the military court system, the mechanisms for judicial review of military actions, and Israel’s repeated invocation of international law, with special attention to the effects and manifestations of each of them in relation to young Palestinians. At the forefront of the analysis are the importance, characteristics, blind spots, and silences of legal and human rights texts. Accordingly, the chapter’s entry points into the subject matter are extensive quotes from two documents – an Israeli military court file and a human rights report – both of which concern Palestinians convicted of stone throwing. As this is the most common charge against noncitizen Palestinians under 18, it is also a common thread through the chapter.

This chapter argues that contemporary debates about the constitution and expansion of mixed courts in Norway reveal a tension in attitudes toward lay participation in the legal system. On the one hand, lawyers and laypersons in Norway evince confidence that professional legal actors can effectively collaborate with jurors to reach verdicts. On the other hand, both laypersons and attorneys worry that when it comes to the prosecution of some crimes – particularly sex crimes – laypersons cannot be relied upon to do justice. After offering an overview of Norway’s shifting jury system, the chapter argues that judicial interventions in the jury system have contributed to its gradual loss of legitimacy. Drawing on empirical research, I argue that critiques of rape prosecutions have both amplified and sharpened the stakes of critiques of lay participation more broadly, though – at least for the moment – mixed courts of lay and professional judges are perceived to remedy the shortcomings of all-layperson juries.