Because I’m a space lawyer in my day job, I’ve been told that I should write a book on space law for science fiction writers. I’ve been thinking about that. Over at GroundBasedSpaceMatters.com, my space law blog, I do the occasional review of near-space, near-future science fiction. I review the story to illustrate a point concerning space law. Sometimes the writer gets it right. Sometimes not.
What I’m thinking is that I should collect these essays eventually and put them out as a book. Writers like to get things right. I research everything from orbital mechanics to wild pigs, and am most grateful when I can find something accessible to the lay person (that’s me). YouTube, of course, is great for wild pigs.
What would be aesthetically pleasing about using the reviews is that it would mirror the law school pedagogical approach. In law school, you read lots of cases about real disputes. (The ones about wills could provide anyone plots for an eternity.) In other words, you look at a story of sorts, and it has to have conflict to have wound up in court. Lots of conflict. These conflicts are not all as juicy as families fighting over a dead person’s money but they’re real. Law school is where you learn that there really are two sides to every story–at least, you do if you’re paying attention.
Science fiction conflicts are not real, of course. But they still are stories. Or, as lawyers like to say, “fact patterns.” (That is sort of like a sewing pattern, but entirely different.)
What is today’s fact pattern? It’s High Justice. What legal issue will we address? Criminal jurisdiction. Seriously, some of you will find this interesting. Honestly.
Aeneas MacKenzie is an idealistic, populist lawyer, a man who devoted his life to rooting out corruption, only to have to leave the government and turn to the corporate world. The corporate world is not your normal corporate world. Instead, the company he seeks belongs to a former flame who is now launching people and goods into orbit commercially. The Heimdall, the space station where all the work takes places has just seen its first murder. The captain is dead, and the second-in-command has a witness who knows who did it. The old flame needs Aeneas to go up and take care of things.
Lawyers actually in space! At least on the fictional side, we needn’t all be ground based.
When asked why the second-in-command hasn’t done something, the poor man replies:
“Do what? I’m no policeman. Suppose we put Holloway under arrest? Then what? We have no jails here, and there’s no court that will take jurisdiction over him.”
The second-in-command is also worried about political shenanigans–and rightly so in the context of the story–but let’s look more closely at his legal concern. Never mind the lack of jails, is it true that no court would take jurisdiction of the matter? Title 18 of the United States Code section 7 suggests otherwise, explaining that
The term ‘special maritime and territorial jurisdiction of the United States,’ as used in this title, includes:
***
(6) Any vehicle used or designed for flight or navigation in space and on the registry of the United States pursuant to the Treaty on Principles Governing the Activities of States in the Exploration and Use of Outer Space, Including the Moon and Other Celestial Bodies and the Convention on Registration of Objects Launched into Outer Space, while that vehicle is in flight, which is from the moment when all external doors are closed on Earth following embarkation until the moment when one such door is opened on Earth for disembarkation or in the case of a forced landing, until the competent authorities take over the responsibility for the vehicle and for persons and property aboard.
(7) Any place outside the jurisdiction of any nation with respect to an offense by or against a national of the United States.
The location at issue in High Justice is the Heimdall, an orbiting space station. We might even go so far as to call it a vehicle because space stations go so very fast. An American company built it by launching pieces from Mexico, so we can figure Mexico is the launching state under the Registration Convention definitions in Article I. Article I defines a “launching state” as a State which launches or procures the launching of a space object, or a State from whose territory or facility a space object is launched. Launching states have to register space objects. Since the space station was not launched from the United States or one of its government facilities, and since the United State neither launched it nor procured its launch, the United States is not a launching state and thus would not register the station where the murder occurred. Accordingly, paragraph 6 above would not apply in High Justice and, so far, Pournelle’s got things right. (Mexico should have registered the Heimdall, but I will not attempt to analyze Mexican law regarding crimes in outer space.)
However, paragraph (7) above provides an independent basis for a U.S. court to have jurisdiction to hear the case. The suspect is a U.S. citizen who works for the CIA, and the statute provides for jurisdiction “with respect to an offense by … a national of the United States.” So, yeah, the accused could be brought back and tried in the United States.
But that would ruin Aeneas’ chance to go to space, so never mind.
by 