The Supreme Court decision in Murphy v. National Collegiate Athletic Association ruled that PAPSA, a federal law outlawing sports betting, was incompatible with the 10th Amendment, which establishes the principle of federalism. While the case may have specifically addressed sports betting, it also opens up broader discussions, including about immigration and marijuana regulations. Section 1373 currently prevents states from limiting communication with entities like ICE, which may be seen as an attempt to unfairly force states’ hand against providing sanctuary for immigrants. Similarly, states can now license marijuana operations without worrying about federal preemption; while this will not bring about retroactive justice, legalization may lead to benefits like increased revenues. While some may be concerned with the quality and effectiveness of initiatives led by states rather than the federal government, this clarification of federal powers will empower states in crucial decisions beyond just sports betting, which can have a widespread positive impact in historically neglected areas.

In recent years, presidents have relied more on executive authority to implement their policy proposals, increasing the power of the executive through both executive orders and regulatory agency actions. However, the Court has shown discomfort with the executive’s broad use of powers in recent years. The recent NFIB v. OSHA ruling codifies the Court’s new and more limited definition of executive power, forming a new precedent through a reinterpretation of the nondelegation doctrine.

This article focuses on the new technology known as a "deep-fake"--- a form of altered digital content in which one party is depicted as having said or done something that they did not actually do. In many cases, deep-fake videos are harmless or even portray individuals in a positive light, yet they carry the potential to severely harm the reputation of those featured. In recent years, state and federal legislatures have enacted legislation to criminalize the creation of illicit deep-fakes, and courts are beginning to hear civil cases concerning them. These efforts should be applauded, yet it will continue to prove very difficult to litigate against individuals who have created forms of deep-fake content for multiple reasons. There are many plausible tort defenses which cite First Amendment protections against restricting content. Furthermore, it is very difficult to identify the precise user who created a deep-fake with current technologies. These two issues constitute a problem of deterrence that will hinder the effectiveness of any legislation establishing penalties for the initial proliferation of deep-fake content. Several major IT companies are now attempting to create software that can automatically identify whether an image is a deep-fake, which could solve the problem of deterrence by preventing any initial spread of this content over social media platforms. This article argues that it is critical to fund these efforts to develop identification software, and that until that point, it is important that all citizens remain suspicious of explosive content that could be edited.

Maine remains the only state without a public defense system. After Gideon v. Wainwright (1963), states established public defense systems; instead, Maine established the Commission on Indigent Legal Services to help hire private attorneys to represent indigent defendants. While Maine’s practice in theory satisfies the sixth amendment, its management denies defendants “the right to a speedy and public trial” and possibly adequate “assistance of counsel for his defense” guaranteed by the sixth amendment of the United States Constitution. Little government assistance, low wages, and excess work caused private attorneys to no longer represent indigent defendants or join the district attorneys’ offices. The resulting backlog, due to a lack of lawyers, harms defendants in two ways. First, defendants wait for extreme lengths of time in jail before trial: a violation of the sixth amendment. Secondly, a lack of lawyers leads to questionable hires that might not provide adequate assistance to defendants: another violation of the sixth amendment. These current practices caused the ACLU of Maine to sue the Commission on Indigent Legal Services in March, 2022. Due to unanimous support for the creation of a public defense system and the reality of inadequate funding, I propose a solution of better management that would include an increase in wages, possible government assistance, lower work hours, and improved oversight for attorneys to increase the amount, productivity, and quality of private attorneys for indigent defendants.

Although trivial in terms of modern law, the Dred Scott decision is an important Supreme Court artifact that serves as a constant reminder of the fine line between law and politics. At a time of heightened anxiety surrounding Supreme Court nominations and imbalance of political ideology in the Court altering precedent, it is important to look back in this Court’s rich history and learn from its darkest mistakes. The case of Dred Scott took place at a tangentially anxious time of history, where the U.S. was on the brink of civil war. The Court sought the opportunity to play policymaker and used Dred Scott as its catalyst. The result was issues decided with little to no legal basis. This article analyzes the arguments behind these decisions to see where the Court was able to blur the lines of legal decision-making to push its motives while also providing insight into the proper application of the law at the time.

“This is your brain, and this is your brain on drugs,” and with this graphic display of an egg breaking into a pan, the War on Drugs was officially kicked off. It seemed that every politician was rushing to be “tough on crime” and out of this fervor, mandatory minimum sentencing guidelines were born which greatly extended the time that convicts served in prison. People began receiving life sentences for petty theft or non-violent drug offenses and the concept of proportionality in criminal sentencing was shattered. Through this article, I explore how mandatory minimum sentencing guidelines fail to reconcile with the Eighth Amendment which protects against cruel and unusual punishment. I also explore how through their discriminatory application to women and people of color, mandatory minimum sentencing guidelines fail to reconcile with the Fourteenth Amendment’s Equal Protection Clause which guards against inequitable application of the law. Through my article, I will explore if mandatory minimums are a great deterrence measure against crime or if they are unconstitutional and antiquated tough-on-crime relic whose time is up.

The UN Refugee Convention 1951 is the foundational document of refugee law. While progressive for its time, the Refugee Convention now struggles to address issues pertaining to forced migration caused by the climate crisis. In particular, the Convention struggles to interpret the definition of a refugee in such a manner that women fleeing the effects of climate change can benefit from its protection. The intersection between female agency and climate change remains unexplored within Convention jurisprudence. As a result, it is difficult to perceive the female climate refugee as possessing unique vulnerabilities reflective of the gendered nature of patriarchal society. This article examines the lack of intersectionality and offers a path forward for future interpretation of the 1951 Convention in a climate-centric and gender-sensitive manner.

In an age where digital titans reign and social media and the internet are as inextricably linked to a person’s speech as their tongue, §230 of the Communications Decency Act is thrust into the limelight as one of the most controversial and crucial pieces of legislation in the 21st century. In particular, the two provisions elaborated on in this article shield intermediaries from liability– particularly in the realm of defamation. In essence, the provisions free intermediaries to moderate content on their sites while removing the threat of liability, with the first provision generally addressing the problem of under-screening and the second serving to address the issue of over-screening. Whether Democrat or Republican, there are calls to repeal and amend §230 from each side of the political spectrum. So what happens if and when, in one swift legislative session, §230 is repealed? Will it result in collateral censorship and end political discourse online as we know it? Or is Section 230 implicit in the concept of ordered liberty in our technologically evolved society that has undergone deep paradigmatic shifts in culture and in an understanding of how the law is applied to modern conceptions of fundamental rights? All of these questions are explored through a detailed argument about §230 which outlines that even if §230—one of the greatest modern protections afforded to user-generated content hosts were repealed, UGC hosts should be protected in the same way through the First Amendment. Although necessary to curb collateral censorship, §230’s longevity and durability is as flimsy as the piece of paper that it is written on because of the bipartisan support to repeal it. In addition, UCGs should be protected entities that cannot be held liable for protected speech, and they should not be compelled to host nor say any speech.