Atoms vs. Bits: Your Phone in the Eyes of the Law

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Should cops be allowed to search the contents of your phone, including email, photographs and text messages, without a warrant?

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On the last Friday in November in 2007, James Nix was riding shotgun in a car driving through the streets of Albany, Oregon, a freeway passthrough town between Salem and Eugene. Nix had several outstanding warrants for possession of a controlled substance, endangering the welfare of a minor and violating his parole on an earlier drug conviction. Earlier that day, an Albany police officer saw Nix take a call on his cell and then immediately after sell drugs to someone in classic hand-to-hand, money for drugs, switch. So, he'd tipped off another officer by the name of Jones to watch for the car. After investigating Nix for several weeks, they were going to make an arrest.

Officer Jones pulled Nix's friend over in a lawful traffic stop and Nix bolted. He didn't get far before being apprehended, though, and Jones patted him down, finding 22 clear plastic baggies often associated with drug dealing, $370 in cash and a cellphone. Jones said while he counted the money, the phone rang "continually." With enough evidence to make an arrest for selling drugs, Jones called Nix's investigators, who told him to deliver the phone to the Albany PD's mobile phone expert. Without a warrant, the forensics analyst searched the entire contents of the phone and "found text messages that he believed were drug related and images 'consistent with methamphetamine.'" They were subsequently used against Nix in a trial which found him guilty.

Ask yourself: Do you think it was OK for the police to search the contents of Nix's phone without a warrant?

It's a complicated issue. We have rules against warrantless searches for good reason. On the other hand, law enforcement doesn't want to lose the ability to do everything it can to catch people they think are criminals.

Here's the legal issue at the heart of the case, which will be argued before the Oregon Supreme Court next week. We all know that the Fourth Amendment to the Constitution protects everyone from "unreasonable" search and seizure. Since the 18th century, though, many cases have touched on how to define what is and is not unreasonable.

Under English common law, it was generally considered reasonable for the police to search you while you were being arrested. It became known as the "search incident to arrest exception" and has been around in American law for well over 100 years. The big change to the exception came in the 1969 case Chimel vs. California, which laid out a key exception to the exception. Namely, if a suspect was arrested in his home, the police couldn't search his whole house. As Wikipedia summarizes it, the police could only search, "the area within the immediate control of the suspect," or as James Nix's attorney Bronson James more colorfully put it, there is a "wingspan rule." If you can reach it, the cops can search it.

Since then, there have been a variety of exceptions to the exceptions to the exceptions as courts try to grapple with the definition of "unreasonable." Courts have said that some types of objects near you are searchable -- purses, backpacks, diaries, etc. -- but that others might not be, like, say, a trunk.

Cellphones, indeed all digital devices, complicate the whole idea. Defense attorney James argued in a brief he filed this month that cellphones, as receptacles of bits, needed protections that objects made of atoms simply did not.

Framing the search incident to arrest doctrine in terms of purses and backpacks no longer works. ... Such a container is constrained by its physicality. It can hold only so much. It is finite. And as such, the privacy intrusion in searching a physical container is also finite.

But [cellphones and other devices] are not containers so much as portals. They themselves hold a vast amount of information, but also hold access to cloud information. They can hold anything, and are infinite. And, correspondingly, the privacy invasion of a full search of their contents is potentially infinite.

But the Oregon Appllate Court didn't agree. They argued that there really wasn't anything so novel about "cellular telephones" and that old analogies worked just fine.

"The premise of defendant's arguments is that cellular telephones are so special, indeed unique, in their character and capacity that they must be treated differently than other receptacles of possible evidence of crimes -- including, for example, 'day-timers,' calendars, address books, letters and even diaries -- in a defendant's possession at the time of arrest," the court wrote. "Ultimately, on a fully developed record, there could be some merit to that claim. But, even in this Wi-Fi age, it is hardly a self-evident-much less judicially noticeable-proposition, factually or legally."

I'm not a legal scholar, but it does seem self-evident to me that a cellphone like mine containing 14,000 text messages, all of my Facebook and phone contacts, hundreds of photographs, access through Gmail to my entire email history, location data going back more than a year and every website I've ever visited on it is qualitatively different from an address book. And the smarter our phones get, the more different they become. As everyone in the technology world has said out loud or to themselves at one point or another, we're all carrying computers in our pockets, computers that hold location data tied to everything we do and connect through the Internet to many, many facets of our lives. Should it take a warrant to access that universe? Boy, I hope so, but some of the case law seems to make physical size the key attribute on which the need for a warrant turns. In an era of miniaturization of computer memory, that's just ludicrous.

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Alexis C. Madrigal

Alexis Madrigal is the deputy editor of TheAtlantic.com. He's the author of Powering the Dream: The History and Promise of Green Technology. More

The New York Observer has called Madrigal "for all intents and purposes, the perfect modern reporter." He co-founded Longshot magazine, a high-speed media experiment that garnered attention from The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal, and the BBC. While at Wired.com, he built Wired Science into one of the most popular blogs in the world. The site was nominated for best magazine blog by the MPA and best science website in the 2009 Webby Awards. He also co-founded Haiti ReWired, a groundbreaking community dedicated to the discussion of technology, infrastructure, and the future of Haiti.

He's spoken at Stanford, CalTech, Berkeley, SXSW, E3, and the National Renewable Energy Laboratory, and his writing was anthologized in Best Technology Writing 2010 (Yale University Press).

Madrigal is a visiting scholar at the University of California at Berkeley's Office for the History of Science and Technology. Born in Mexico City, he grew up in the exurbs north of Portland, Oregon, and now lives in Oakland.

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