Then Why Use Them In the First Place?

At oral argument the other day in the Paul B. Johson v. State of Florida, Justice Pariente of the Florida Supreme Court expressed frustration at the naked opportunism that so often surrounds the State's use of snitch testimony. At trial, prosecutors depict snitches as earnest, well-intentioned informants conveying critical, damning admissions that a defendant allegedly revealed to them. Post-conviction when it comes to light that – surprise, surprise – the snitch lied at trial, the State goes to great lengths to depict the snitch testimony as having always been of marginal importance to the State's otherwise unassailable case. Pariente implicitly asks the obvious question:

These jailhouse snitches used to be used a lot and then they recant, and [as a judge] you [ask yourself]... "why in a case, if it’s such a clear case... why does the State go and use these kind of people?" And it always ends up having the potential for infecting the trial. And then when it comes out that they’ve recanted or something else, [the State claims] “well, they really weren’t that important anyway.” And that’s a frustrating thing for the court, because if they’re not important, let’s not use them, but once they’re used, [for the State] then to say “well, we didn’t need them and it wouldn’t have made one bit of difference,” it seems, it’s a little bit difficult to make that argument.

Though snitches are among the least reliable forms of evidence, the State loves to use them. They're an easy and effective way to manufacture evidence against a defendant. A lazy investigator's dream. No need to hit the pavement and interview witnesses or perform tests in a lab when a jailhouse snitch will testify as needed. And if the snitch is later exposed to be a liar, the State can always feign surprise and argue that the conviction should stand.