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On the morning of March 20, 2002, while television cameras recorded the events for the evening news, dozens of federal agents entered and searched the offices of several Islamic educational and religious organizations in Northern Virginia. The agents were searching, it appears, for evidence that those organizations contributed money to international groups known to have sponsored terrorist acts. By most public accounts, the targeted institutions were regarded as moderate and progressive voices in American Islam. For that reason, the searches sent shock waves through the American Muslim community. Muslims who had supported the Administration's domestic war on terrorism began to wonder out loud: If religious institutions like these are suspect in the eyes of the government, then what Islamic organization is not? Is this a war on terrorism, or a war on Islam? In response to protests from a variety of American Muslim organizations, the government was quick to point out that the searches were authorized by warrants issued by a federal magistrate. But as months have passed with little indication that the searches produced evidence of any crime, questions about the government's choice of targets and tactics continue to trouble many observers. Why did the government choose the tactic of multiple, coordinated and well publicized searches rather than the simpler, quieter alternative of a subpoena? Before searching religious institutions, did government agents and attorneys consider the harm that would come to reputable religious institutions from the searches? If so, did government officials conclude that other factors-like the risk that subpoenaed records might be destroyed-outweighed the potential harm to religious expression? Or does the government now regard the chilling of religious expression by "suspect" organizations to be a legitimate goal of law enforcement in combating terrorism? Despite the importance of these questions to the American Muslim community in particular, and to the community of faith-based organizations more generally, solid answers are hard to find. In this brief essay, I will not attempt to unravel the bits and pieces of publicly available data that might answer these questions as a matter of fact. Instead, I will try to put the searches in legal context by addressing two basic questions. First, how does our law account for the damage that may result from a search warrant where the search by itself may stifle religious expression? Second, does that law make sense in light of the law enforcement tactics used, and the religious interests at stake, in the domestic war against terrorism?

In sum, despite the efforts of the General Assembly, Virginia law remains stuck between the "rock" of antiquated theft crimes and the "hard place" of due process. Tinkering with procedural rules merely masks the real problem. My aim in this article is to suggest a different approach. It is time to address the substantive definition of theft crimes in Virginia: to consolidate the crimes of larceny, embezzlement, and false pretenses-as most other American jurisdictions have done into a single offense. By dealing with substance rather than procedure, we can eliminate historical distinctions which serve only to confound prosecutors and complicate criminal litigation. And we can do so without sacrificing the rights of defendants.

A First Amendment advocate's greatest burden can be his own client. Those clients range from the offbeat to the dangerous, from pornographers to neo-Nazis. Yet in standing up for the disreputable client, the free speech advocate stands for one of more cherished freedoms: "If there is a bedrock principle underlying the First Amendment, it is that the Government may not prohibit the expression of an idea simply because society finds the idea itself offensive or disagreeable." Texas v. Johnson, 491 U.S. 397, 414 (1989). As one of the nation's leading First Amendment advocates, Allen Professor Rodney Smolla understands that burden as well as anyone. No doubt he felt it keenly at 10:31 a.m. on Dec. 11, 2002, when he rose before a packed gallery in the U.S. Supreme Court to argue that the First Amendment protects symbolic speech, even when the symbol is as repulsive as a Klansman's burning cross.

and prosecutors. Part I of this Article argues that the conventional theory of hearsaydiscovery balance does not reflect the reality of modem federal practice. An imbalance has arisen because, in the last quarter century, developments in the law of evidence and confrontation are at odds with developments-or one might say nondevelopments-in the law of criminal discovery. Since enactment of the Federal Rules of Evidence in 1975, both the law of evidence and modem Confrontation Clause doctrine have evolved toward broader admission of hearsay in criminal cases. Contrary to conventional theory, that evolution has at least matched-and probably has outpaced-the trend toward more liberal admission of hearsay in civil cases. But while federal courts criminal cases, the rules of criminal discovery show no sign of adapting to that reality. As a result, in comparison to other litigants, federal criminal defendants now face a litigation environment that features both minimum discovery and maximum admissible hearsay. Part II offers some proposals to address that imbalance by expanding a defendant's right to learn in advance what hearsay he must face, and his right to gather "ammunition" to contest that hearsay. Where appropriate, I have included proposals that would require the amendment of existing rules. But recognizing the practical difficulties facing any rule-making initiative, my principal focus is to suggest more effective means of applying Rule 16, the Jencks Act, and the Brady doctrine-the major discovery tools presently available to criminal defendants-to the task of contesting prosecution hearsay. This Article is not a critique of developments in the law of evidence, nor of the Court's application of the Confrontation Clause to hearsay. It is not an argument that more, or less, hearsay should be admitted in criminal cases. Instead, it takes as a starting point the undeniable reality that, for good or ill, today's federal criminal trials include a wider variety of admissible hearsay than ever before. My aim is to show how the process of criminal discovery can and should adapt to that reality to correct the hearsay-discovery balance when the government relies on hearsay.

This article begins with a brief introduction to Virginia's uninsured motorist statute. The article then addresses the stacking of uninsured and underinsured motorist coverage and the problem of multiple tortfeasors. It also addresses the priority among insurers, where several uninsured motorist insurance carriers may be held liable for a single injury. The article closes with a summary of the most recent legislative and judicial pronouncements on the subject. A review of Virginia cases demonstrates that the result in almost any stacking problem is best determined by reference to a very simple rule: Read the Statute and Read the Policy!

Congress passed the Education for All Handicapped Children Act of 197 in response to the need for increased funding brought about by the widespread recognition by courts and state legislatures of the right of handicapped children to an adequate education. Although the Act sets forth general requirements states must meet in order to qualify for receipt of federal funds, it does not prescribe the specific educational programs local schools must make available in order to fulfill those requirements. Instead, the heart of the federal control mechanism is a system of procedural .safeguards which provides for parental involvement in educational placement decisions. In effect, the Act guarantees procedures whereby parents may challenge the appropriateness of their child's educational program, but provides only the most general guidelines for resolving the substantive questions such challenges may present. Since the major substantive provisions of the Act have only recently gone into effect, judicial interpretation has yet to clarify those guidelines. The basic purpose of this Note is to suggest some pathways through the substantially unexplored terrain of the Act and to indicate where the chief obstacles are likely to lie. Part I first discusses the forces which led to congressional action. It then sets forth the Act's major substantive requirements and outlines the procedural system through which complaints will proceed. Part II evaluates the Act's procedural system and suggests measures for improving its effectiveness as a means of enforcing the right to an appropriate education. Finally, Part III discusses several substantive areas in which complaints seem Hkely to arise. This Part attempts to illuminate major areas of potential conflict and to suggest factors decisionmakers should consider in resolving disagreements between parents and schools.

"The Global Spanish Empire tackles broad questions about indigenous cultural persistence, pluralism, and place making using a global comparative perspective grounded in the shared experience of Spanish colonialism. Through an expansive range of essays that look at Africa, the Americas, Asia, the Caribbean and the Pacific, this volume brings often-neglected regions into conversation"--

The Spanish Empire was a complex web of places and peoples. Through an expansive range of essays that look at Africa, the Americas, Asia, the Caribbean, and the Pacific, this volume brings a broad range of regions into conversation. The contributors focus on nuanced, comparative exploration of the processes and practices of creating, maintaining, and transforming cultural place making within pluralistic Spanish colonial communities. The Global Spanish Empire argues that patterned variability is necessary in reconstructing Indigenous cultural persistence in colonial settings. The volume's eleven case studies include regions often neglected in the archaeology of Spanish colonialism. The time span under investigation is extensive as well, transcending the entirety of the Spanish Empire, from early impacts in West Africa to Texas during the 1800s. The contributors examine the making of a social place within a social or physical landscape. They discuss the appearance of hybrid material culture, the incorporation of foreign goods into local material traditions, the continuation of local traditions, and archaeological evidence of opportunistic social climbing. In some cases, these changes in material culture are ways to maintain aspects of traditional culture rather than signifiers of new cultural practices. The Global Spanish Empire tackles broad questions about Indigenous cultural persistence, pluralism, and place making using a global comparative perspective grounded in the shared experience of Spanish colonialism.

"This book examines existing understandings of potential social foundations for native and non-native communities, traditional or innovative material and spatial strategies to build community on such a foundation, and resulting constellations of community characteristics beyond the material that served, reflected, and evolved with the membership and the times"...Provided by publisher