BIG PUNITIVE AWARD THREATENS JUSTICE

There's an old song that goes: "smoke gets in your eyes." But a San
Francisco jury would make you believe smoke gets in the brain too.

When a San Francisco jury awarded $50 million in punitive damages to a
former three-pack-a-day smoker, justice had a coughing jag, which was
swiftly followed by cardiac arrest.

Far be it from us to shed too many tears for tobacco giant Philip
Morris, the defendant in this case. But proportionality and fairness
shouldn't take a hit because a jury wants to send a signal that
tobacco companies are evil.

Evil they may be, and criminally reckless too, but as a wise person
once said: "The beginning of wisdom is the ability to make fine
distinctions."

The plaintiff, Patricia Henley, 52, has inoperable cancer, though it's
in remission. While sympathizing with Henley's plight and deploring
her former addiction to a hazardous, noxious weed, we're compelled to
make some fine distinctions in this case.

Henley's lawyer asked for $15 million in punitive damages. The jury,
in its infinite wisdom, returned with an award three times larger than
what even her attorney thought would be "fair."

We have a problem with this. Besides opening the courts to a flood of
copy-cat suits motivated by fantasies of a big payday, a jury award of
this size distorts the fragile calculus of justice.

We understand that the jury was furious with Philip Morris for
concealing evidence during the trial. Granted, the company that
brought us the Marlboro Man acted deplorably in defending itself
against moral and financial liability. Still, we shouldn't lose sight
of the fact that a jury's ultimate duty is administering justice, not
moral indignation measured in mega-dollars.

Such blatant disregard for justice invites contempt for the judicial
system. Since it's likely the jury award will be reduced on appeal
anyway, the jury's verdict amounts to an expression of populist
overreaction. As bad as cigarettes are, they're a legal product. The
decision to smoke the first addictive cigarette is made from a
position of existential freedom. This should count for something in
the jury's calculation, as well.

Philip Morris may be a billion dollar defendant, but it shouldn't be
subject to the equivalent of a judicial "shakedown" because it has the
money.

The jury's decision says we're more addicted to the smell of money
than cigarette smoke.