9 Week 9 9 Week 9
9.1 What is the Miranda rule and when does it apply? 9.1 What is the Miranda rule and when does it apply?
9.2 Part 1: The Miranda rule 9.2 Part 1: The Miranda rule
9.2.1 Miranda v. Arizona (1966) 9.2.1 Miranda v. Arizona (1966)
MIRANDA v. ARIZONA.
No. 759.
Argued February 28-March 1, 1966.
Decided June 13, 1966*
*438 John J. Flynn argued the cause for petitioner in No. 759. With him on the brief was John P. Frank. Victor M. Earle III argued the cause and filed a brief for petitioner in No. 760. F. Conger Fawcett argued the cause, and filed a brief for petitioner in No. 761. Gordon Ringer, Deputy Attorney General of California, argued the cause for petitioner in No. 584. With him on the briefs were Thomas C. Lynch, Attorney General, and William E. James, Assistant Attorney General.
Gary K. Nelson, Assistant Attorney General of Arizona, argued the cause for respondent in No. 759. With him on the brief was Darrell F. Smith, Attorney General. William I. Siegel argued the cause for respondent in No. 760. With him on the brief was Aaron E. Koota. Solicitor General Marshall argued the cause for the United States in No. 761. With him on the brief were Assistant Attorney General Vinson, Ralph S. Spritzer, Nathan Lewin, Beatrice Rosenberg and Ronald L. Gainer. William A. Norris, by appointment of the Court, 382 U. S. 952, argued the cause and filed a brief for respondent in No. 584.
Telford Taylor, by special leave of Court, argued the cause for the State of New York, as amicus curiae, in all cases. With him on the brief were Louis J. Lefkowitz, Attorney General of New York, Samuel A. Hirshowitz, First Assistant Attorney General, and Barry Mahoney and George D. Zuckerman, Assistant Attorneys General, joined by the Attorneys General for their respective States and jurisdictions as follows: RichmondM. Flowers of Alabama, Darrell F. Smith of Arizona, Bruce Bennett of Arkansas, Duke W. Dunbar of Colorado, David P. Buckson of Delaware, Earl Faircloth of Florida, Arthur K. Bolton of Georgia, Allan G. Shepard of Idaho, William G. Clark of Illinois, Robert C. Londerholm of Kansas, Robert Matthews of Kentucky, Jack P. F. *439 Gremillion of Louisiana, Richard J. Dubord of Maine, Thomas B. Finan of Maryland, Norman H. Anderson of Missouri, Forrest H. Anderson of Montana, Clarence A. H. Meyer of Nebraska, T. Wade Bruton of North Carolina, Helgi Johanneson of North Dakota, Robert Y. Thornton of Oregon, Walter E. Alessandroni of Pennsylvania, J. Joseph Nugent of Rhode Island, Daniel R. McLeod of South Carolina, Waggoner Carr of Texas, Robert Y. Button of Virginia, John J. O’Connell of Washington, C. Donald Robertson of West Virginia, John F. Raper of Wyoming, Rafael Hernandez Colon of Puerto Rico and Francisco Corneiro of the Virgin Islands.
Duane R. Nedrud, by special leave of Court, argued the cause for the National District Attorneys Association, as amicus curiae, urging affirmance in Nos. 759 and 760, and reversal in No. 584. With him on the brief was Marguerite D. Oberto.
Anthony G. Amsterdam, Paul J. Mishkin, Raymond L, Bradley, Peter Hearn and Melvin L. Wulf filed a brief for the American Civil Liberties Union, as amicus curiae, in all cases.
delivered the opinion of the Court.
The cases before us raise questions which go to the roots of our concepts of American criminal jurisprudence: the restraints society must observe consistent with the Federal Constitution in prosecuting individuals for crime. More specifically, we deal with the admissibility of statements obtained from an individual who is subjected to custodial police interrogation and the necessity for procedures which assure that the individual is accorded his privilege under the Fifth Amendment to the Constitution not to be compelled to incriminate himself.
*440We dealt with certain phases of this problem recently in Escobedo v. Illinois, 378 U. S. 478 (1964). There, as in the four cases before us, law enforcement officials took the defendant into custody and interrogated him in a police station for the purpose of obtaining a confession. The police did not effectively advise him of his right to remain silent or of his right to consult with his attorney. Rather, they confronted him with an alleged accomplice who accused him of having perpetrated a murder. When the defendant denied the accusation and said “I didn’t shoot Manuel, you did it,” they handcuffed him and took him to an interrogation room. There, while handcuffed and standing, he was questioned for four hours until he confessed. During this interrogation, the police denied his request to speak to his attorney, and they prevented his retained attorney, who had come to the police station, from consulting with him. At his trial, the State, over his objection, introduced the confession against him. We held that the statements thus made were constitutionally inadmissible.
This case has been the subject of judicial interpretation and spirited legal debate since it was decided two years ago. Both state and federal courts, in assessing its implications, have arrived at varying conclusions.1 A wealth of scholarly material has been written tracing its ramifications and underpinnings.2 Police and prose*441cutor have speculated on its range and desirability.3 We granted certiorari in these cases, 382 U. S. 924, 925, 937, in order further to explore some facets of the problems, thus exposed, of applying the privilege against self-incrimination to in-custody interrogation, and to give *442concrete constitutional guidelines for law enforcement agencies and courts to follow.
We start here, as we did in Escobedo, with the premise that our holding is not an innovation in our jurisprudence, but is an application of principles long recognized and applied in other settings. We have undertaken a thorough re-examination of the Escobedo decision and the principles it announced, and we reaffirm it. That case was but an explication of basic rights that are enshrined in our Constitution — that “No person . . . shall be compelled in any criminal case to be a witness against himself,” and that “the accused shall . . . have the Assistance of Counsel” — rights which were put in jeopardy in that case through official overbearing. These precious rights were fixed in our Constitution only after centuries of persecution and struggle. And in the words of Chief Justice Marshall, they were secured “for ages to come, and . . . designed to approach immortality as nearly as human institutions can approach it,” Cohens v. Virginia, 6 Wheat. 264, 387 (1821).
Over 70 years ago, our predecessors on this Court eloquently stated:
“The maxim nemo tenetur seipsum acensare had its origin in a protest against the inquisitorial and manifestly unjust methods of- interrogating accused persons, which [have] long obtained in the continental system, and, until the expulsion of the Stuarts from the British throne in 1688, and the erection of additional barriers for the protection of the people against the exercise of arbitrary power, [were] not uncommon even in England. While the admissions or confessions of the prisoner, when voluntarily and freely made, have always ranked high in the scale of incriminating evidence, if an accused person be asked to explain his apparent connection with a crime under investigation, the ease with which the *443questions put to him may assume an inquisitorial character, the temptation to press the witness unduly, to browbeat him if he be timid or reluctant, to push him into a corner, and to entrap him into fatal contradictions, which is so painfully evident in many of the earlier state trials, notably in those of Sir Nicholas Throckmorton, and Udal, the Puritan minister, made the system so odious as to give rise to a demand for its total abolition. The change in the English criminal procedure in that particular seems to be founded upon no statute and no judicial opinion, but upon a general and silent acquiescence of the courts in a popular demand. But, however adopted, it has become firmly embedded in English, as well as in American jurisprudence. So deeply did the iniquities of the ancient system impress themselves upon the minds of the American colonists that the States, with one accord, made a denial of the right to question an accused person a part of their fundamental law, so that a maxim, which in England was a mere rule of evidence, became clothed in this country with the impregnability of a constitutional enactment.” Brown v. Walker, 161 U. S. 591, 596-597 (1896).
In stating the obligation of the judiciary to apply these constitutional rights, this Court declared in Weems v. United States, 217 U. S. 349, 373 (1910):
. . our contemplation cannot be only of what has been but of what may be. Under any other rule a constitution would indeed be as easy of application as it would be deficient in efficacy and power. Its general principles would have little value and be converted by precedent into impotent and lifeless formulas. Rights declared in words might be lost in reality. And this has been recognized. The *444meaning and vitality of the Constitution have developed against narrow and restrictive construction.”
This was the spirit in which we delineated, in meaningful language, the manner in which the constitutional rights of the individual could be enforced against overzealous police practices. It was necessary in Escobedo, as here, to insure that what was proclaimed in the Constitution had not become but a “form of words,” Silverthorne Lumber Co. v. United States, 251 U. S. 385, 392 (1920), in the hands of government officials. And it is in this spirit, consistent with our role as judges, that we adhere to the principles of Escobedo today.
Our holding will be spelled out with some specificity in the pages which follow but briefly stated it is this: the prosecution may not use statements, whether exculpatory or inculpatory, stemming from custodial interrogation of the defendant unless it demonstrates the use of procedural safeguards effective to secure the privilege against self-incrimination. By custodial interrogation, we mean questioning initiated by law enforcement officers after a person has been taken into custody or otherwise deprived of his freedom of action in any significant way.4 As for the procedural safeguards to be employed, unless other fully effective means are devised to inform accused persons of their right of silence and to assure a continuous opportunity to exercise it, the following measures are required. Prior to any questioning, the person must be warned that he has a right to remain silent, that any statement he does make may be used as evidence against him, and that he has a right to the presence of an attorney, either retained or appointed. The defendant may waive effectuation of these rights, provided the waiver is made voluntarily, knowingly and intelligently. If, however, he indicates in any manner and at any stage of the *445process that he wishes to consult with an attorney before speaking there can be no questioning. Likewise, if the individual is alone and indicates in any manner that he does not wish to be interrogated, the police may not question him. The mere fact that he may have answered some questions or volunteered some statements on his own does not deprive him of the right to refrain from answering any further inquiries until he has consulted with an attorney and thereafter consents to be questioned.
I.
The constitutional issue we decide in each of these cases is the admissibility of statements obtained from a defendant questioned while in custody or otherwise deprived of his freedom of action in any significant way. In each, the defendant was questioned by police officers, detectives, or a prosecuting attorney in a room in which he was cut off from the outside world. In none of these cases was the defendant given a full and effective warning of his rights at the outset of the interrogation process. In all the cases, the questioning elicited oral admissions, and in three of them, signed statements as well which were admitted at their trials. They all thus share salient features— incommunicado interrogation of individuals in a police-dominated atmosphere, resulting in self-incriminating statements without full warnings of constitutional rights.
An understanding of the nature and setting of this in-custody interrogation is essential to our decisions today. The difficulty in depicting what transpires at such interrogations stems from the fact that in this country they have largely taken place incommunicado. From extensive factual studies undertaken in the early 1930’s, including the famous Wickersham Report to Congress by a Presidential Commission, it is clear that police violence and the “third degree” flourished at that time.5 *446In a series of cases decided by this Court long after these studies, the police resorted to physical brutality — beating, hanging, whipping — and to sustained and protracted questioning incommunicado in order to extort confessions.6 The Commission on Civil Rights in 1961 found much evidence to indicate that “some policemen still resort to physical force to obtain confessions,” 1961 Comm’n on Civil Rights Rep., Justice, pt. 5, 17. The use of physical brutality and violence is not, unfortunately, relegated to the past or to any part of the country. Only recently in Kings County, New York, the police brutally beat, kicked and placed lighted cigarette butts on the back of a potential witness under interrogation for the purpose of securing a statement incriminating a third party. People v. Portelli, 15 N. Y. 2d 235, 205 N. E. 2d 857, 257 N. Y. S. 2d 931 (1965).7
*447The examples given above are undoubtedly the exception now, but they are sufficiently widespread to be the object of concern. Unless a proper limitation upon custodial interrogation is achieved — such as these decisions will advance — -there can be no assurance that practices of this nature will be eradicated in the foreseeable future. The conclusion of the Wickersham Commission Report, made over 30 years ago, is still pertinent:
“To the contention that the third degree is necessary to get the facts, the reporters aptly reply in the language of the present Lord Chancellor of England (Lord Sankey): ‘It is not admissible to do a great right by doing a little wrong. ... It is not sufficient to do justice by obtaining a proper result by irregular or improper means.’ Not only does the use of the third degree involve a flagrant violation of law by the officers of the law, but it involves also the dangers of false confessions, and it tends to make police and prosecutors less zealous in the search for objective evidence. As the New York prosecutor quoted in the report said, ‘It is a short cut and makes the police lazy and unenterprising.’ Or, as another official quoted remarked: Tf you use your fists, you *448are not so likely to use your wits.’ We agree with the conclusion expressed in the report, that ‘The third degree brutalizes the police, hardens the prisoner against society, and lowers the esteem in which the administration of justice is held by the public.’ ” IV National Commission on Law Observance and Enforcement, Report on Lawlessness in Law Enforcement 5 (1931).
Again we stress that the modern practice of in-custody interrogation is psychologically rather than physically oriented. As we have stated before, “Since Chambers v. Florida, 309 U. S. 227, this Court has recognized that coercion can be mental as well as physical, and that the blood of the accused is not the only hallmark of an unconstitutional inquisition.” Blackburn v. Alabama, 361 U. S. 199, 206 (1960). Interrogation still takes place in privacy. Privacy results in secrecy and this in turn results in a gap in our knowledge as to what in fact goes on in the interrogation rooms. A valuable source of information about present police practices, however, may be found in various police manuals and texts which document procedures employed with success in the past, and which recommend various other effective tactics.8 These *449texts are used by law enforcement agencies themselves as guides.9 It should be noted that these texts professedly present the most enlightened and effective means presently used to obtain statements through custodial interrogation. By considering these texts and other data, it is possible to describe procedures observed and noted around the country.
The officers are told by the manuals that the “principal psychological factor contributing to a successful interrogation is privacy — being alone with the person under interrogation.” 10 The efficacy of this tactic has been explained as follows:
“If at all practicable, the interrogation should take place in the investigator’s office or at least in a room of his own choice. The subject should be deprived of every psychological advantage. In his own home he may be confident, indignant, or recalcitrant. He is more keenly aware of his rights and *450more reluctant to tell of his indiscretions or criminal behavior within the walls of his home. Moreover his family and other friends are nearby, their presence lending moral support. In his own office, the investigator possesses all the advantages. The atmosphere suggests the invincibility of the forces of the law.” 11
To highlight the isolation and unfamiliar surroundings, the manuals instruct the police to display an air of confidence in the suspect’s guilt and from outward appearance to maintain only an interest in confirming certain details. The guilt of the subject is to be posited as a fact. The interrogator should direct his comments toward the reasons why the subject committed the act, rather than court failure by asking the subject whether he did it. Like other men, perhaps the subject has had a bad family life, had an unhappy childhood, had too much to drink, had an unrequited desire for women. The officers are instructed to minimize the moral seriousness of the offense,12 to cast blame on the victim or on society.13 These tactics are designed to put the subject in a psychological state where his story is but an elaboration of what the police purport to know already— that he is guilty. Explanations to the contrary are dismissed and discouraged.
The texts thus stress that the major qualities an interrogator should possess are patience and perseverance. *451One writer describes the efficacy of these characteristics in this manner:
“In the preceding paragraphs emphasis has been placed on kindness and stratagems. The investigator will, however, encounter many situations where the sheer weight of his personality will be the deciding factor. Where emotional appeals and tricks are employed to no avail, he must rely on an oppressive atmosphere of dogged persistence. He must interrogate steadily and without relent, leaving the subject no prospect of surcease. He must dominate his subject and overwhelm him with his inexorable will to obtain the truth. He should interrogate for a spell of several hours pausing only for the subject’s necessities in acknowledgment of the need to avoid a charge of duress that can be technically substantiated. In a serious case, the interrogation may continue for days, with the required intervals for food and sleep, but with no respite from the atmosphere of domination. It is possible in this way to induce the subject to talk without resorting to duress or coercion. The method should be used only when the guilt of the subject appears highly probable.” 14
The manuals suggest that the suspect be offered legal excuses for his actions in order to obtain an initial admission of guilt. Where there is a suspected revenge-killing, for example, the interrogator may say:
“Joe, you probably didn’t go out looking for this fellow with the purpose of shooting him. My guess is, however, that you expected something from him and that’s why you carried a gun — for your own protection. You knew him for what he was, no good. Then when you met him he probably started using foul, abusive language and he gave some indi*452cation that he was about to pull a gun on you, and that’s when you had to act to save your own life. That’s about it, isn’t it, Joe?” 15
Having then obtained the admission of shooting, the interrogator is advised to refer to circumstantial evidence which negates the self-defense explanation. This should enable him to secure the entire story. One text notes that “Even if he fails to do so, the inconsistency between the subject’s original denial of the shooting and his present admission of at least doing the shooting will serve to deprive him of a self-defense ‘out’ at the time of trial.” 16
When the techniques described above prove unavailing, the texts recommend they be alternated with a show of some hostility. One ploy often used has been termed the “friendly-unfriendly” or the “Mutt and Jeff” act:
“. . . In this technique, two agents are employed. Mutt, the relentless investigator, who knows the subject is guilty and is not going , to waste any time. He’s sent a dozen men away for this crime and he’s going to send the subject away for the full term. Jeff, on the other hand, is obviously a kindhearted man. He has a family himself. He has a brother who was involved in a little scrape like this. He disapproves of Mutt and his tactics and will arrange to get him off the case if the subject will cooperate. He can’t hold Mutt off for very long. The subject would be wise to make a quick decision. The technique is applied by having both investigators present while Mutt acts out his role. Jeff may stand by quietly and demur at some of Mutt’s tactics. When Jeff makes his plea for cooperation, Mutt is not present in the room.” 17
*453The interrogators sometimes are instructed to induce a confession out of trickery. The technique here is quite effective in crimes which require identification or which run in series. In the identification situation, the interrogator may take a break in his questioning to place the subject among a group of men in a line-up. “The witness or complainant (previously coached, if necessary) studies the line-up and confidently points out the subject as the guilty party.” 18 Then the questioning resumes “as though there were now no doubt about the guilt of the subject.” A variation on this technique is called the “reverse line-up”:
“The accused is placed in a line-up, but this time he is identified by several fictitious witnesses or victims who associated him with different offenses. It is expected that the subject will become desperate and confess to the offense under investigation in order to escape from the false accusations.” 19
The manuals also contain instructions for police on how to handle the individual who refuses to discuss the matter entirely, or who asks for an attorney or relatives. The examiner is to concede him the right to remain silent. “This usually has a very undermining effect. First of all, he is disappointed in his expectation of an unfavorable reaction on the part of the interrogator. Secondly, a concession of this right to remain silent im*454presses the subject with the apparent fairness of his interrogator.”20 After this psychological conditioning, however, the officer is told to point out the incriminating significance of the suspect’s refusal to talk:
“Joe, you have a right to remain silent. That’s your privilege and I’m the last person in the world who’ll try to take it away from you. If that’s the way you want to leave this, O. K. But let me ask you this. Suppose you were in my shoes and I were in yours and you called me in to ask me about this and I told you, T don’t want to answer any of your questions.’ You’d think I had something to hide, and you’d probably be right in thinking that. That’s exactly what I’ll have to think about you, and so will everybody else. So let’s sit here and talk this whole thing over.” 21
New will persist in their initial refusal to talk, it is said, if this monologue is employed correctly.
In the event that the subject wishes to speak to a relative or an attorney, the following advice is tendered:
“[T]he interrogator should respond by suggesting that the subject first tell the truth to the interrogator himself rather than get anyone else involved in the matter. If the request is for an attorney, the interrogator may suggest that the subject save himself or his family the expense of any such professional service, particularly if he is innocent of the offense under investigation. The interrogator may also add, ‘Joe, I’m only looking for the truth, and if you’re telling the truth, that’s it. You can handle this by yourself.’ ” 22
*455From these representative samples of interrogation techniques, the setting prescribed by the manuals and observed in practice becomes clear. In essence, it is this: To be alone with the subject is essential to prevent distraction and to deprive him of any outside support. The aura of confidence in his guilt undermines his will to resist. He merely confirms the preconceived story the police seek to have him describe. Patience and persistence, at times relentless questioning, are employed. To obtain a confession, the interrogator must “patiently maneuver himself or his quarry into a position from which the desired objective may be attained.” 23 When normal procedures fail to produce the needed result, the police may resort to deceptive stratagems such as giving false legal advice. It is important to keep the subject off balance, for example, by trading on his insecurity about himself or his surroundings. The police then persuade, trick, or cajole him out of exercising his constitutional rights.
Even without employing brutality, the “third degree” or the specific stratagems described above, the very fact of custodial interrogation exacts a heavy toll on individual liberty and trades on the weakness of individuals.24 *456This fact may be illustrated simply by referring to three confession cases decided by this Court in the Term immediately preceding our Escobedo decision. In Townsend v. Sain, 372 U. S. 293 (1963), the defendant was a 19-year-old heroin addict, described as a “near mental defective,” id., at 307-310. The defendant in Lynumn v. Illinois, 372 U. S. 528 (1963), was a woman who confessed to the arresting officer after being importuned to “cooperate” in order to prevent her children from being taken by relief authorities. This Court as in those cases reversed the conviction of a defendant in Haynes v. Washington, 373 U. S. 503 (1963), whose persistent request during his interrogation was to phone his wife or attorney.25 In other settings, these individuals might have exercised their constitutional rights. In the incommunicado police-dominated atmosphere, they succumbed.
In the cases before us today, given this background, we concern ourselves primarily with this interrogation atmosphere and the evils it can bring. In No. 759, Miranda v. Arizona, the police arrested the defendant and took him to a special interrogation room where they secured a confession. In No. 760, Vignera v. New York, the defendant made oral admissions to the police after interrogation in the afternoop, and then signed an inculpatory statement upon being questioned by an assistant district attorney later the same evening. In No. 761, Westover v. United States, the defendant was handed over to the Federal Bureau of Investigation by *457local authorities after they had detained and interrogated him for a lengthy period, both at night and the following morning. After some two hours of questioning, the federal officers had obtained signed statements from the defendant. Lastly, in No. 584, California v. Stewart, the local police held the defendant five days in the station and interrogated him on nine separate occasions before they secured his inculpatory statement.
In these cases, we might not find the defendants’ statements to have been involuntary in traditional terms. Our concern for adequate safeguards to protect precious Fifth Amendment rights is, of course, not lessened in the slightest. In each of the cases, the defendant was thrust into an unfamiliar atmosphere and run through menacing police interrogation procedures. The potentiality for compulsion is forcefully apparent, for example, in Miranda, where the indigent Mexican defendant was a seriously disturbed individual with pronounced sexual fantasies, and in Stewart, in which the defendant was an indigent Los Angeles Negro who had dropped out of school in the sixth grade. To be sure, the records do not evince overt physical coercion or patent psychological ploys. The fact remains that in none of these cases did the officers undertake to afford appropriate safeguards at the outset of the interrogation to insure that the statements were truly the product of free choice.
It is obvious that such an interrogation environment is created for no purpose other than to subjugate the individual to the will of his examiner. This atmosphere carries its own badge of intimidation. To be sure, this is not physical intimidation, but it is equally destructive of human dignity.26 The current practice of incommunicado interrogation is at odds with one of our *458Nation’s most cherished principles — that the individual may not be compelled to incriminate himself. Unless adequate protective devices are employed to dispel the compulsion inherent in custodial surroundings, no statement obtained from the defendant can truly be the product of his free choice.
From the foregoing, we can readily perceive an intimate connection between the privilege against self-incrimination and police custodial questioning. It is fitting to turn to history and precedent underlying the Self-Incrimination Clause to determine its applicability in this situation.
II.
We sometimes forget how long it has taken to establish the privilege against self-incrimination, the sources from which it came and the fervor with which it was defended. Its roots go back into ancient times.27 Per*459haps the critical historical event shedding light on its origins and evolution was the trial of one John Lilburn, a vocal anti-Stuart Leveller, who was made to take the Star Chamber Oath in 1637. The oath would have bound him to answer to all questions posed to him on any subject. The Trial of John Lilburn and John Wharton, 3 How. St. Tr. 1315 (1637). He resisted the oath and declaimed the proceedings, stating:
“Another fundamental right I then contended for, was, that no man’s conscience ought to be racked by oaths imposed, to answer to questions concerning himself in matters criminal, or pretended to be so.” Haller & Davies, The Leveller Tracts 1647-1653, p. 454 (1944).
On account of the Lilburn Trial, Parliament abolished the inquisitorial Court of Star Chamber and went further in giving him generous reparation. The lofty principles to which Lilburn had appealed during his trial gained popular acceptance in England.28 These sentiments worked their way over to the Colonies and were implanted after great struggle into the Bill of Rights.29 Those who framed our Constitution and the Bill of Rights were ever aware of subtle encroachments on individual liberty. They knew that “illegitimate and unconstitutional practices get their first footing ... by silent approaches and slight deviations from legal modes of procedure.” Boyd v. United States, 116 U. S. 616, 635 (1886). The privilege was elevated to constitutional status and has always been “as broad as the mischief *460against which it seeks to guard.” Counselman v. Hitchcock, 142 U. S. 547, 562 (1892). We cannot depart from this noble heritage.
Thus we may view the historical development of the privilege as one which groped for the proper scope of governmental power over the citizen. As a “noble principle often transcends its origins,” the privilege has come rightfully to be recognized in part as an individual’s substantive right, a “right to a private enclave where he may lead a private life. That right is the hallmark of our democracy.” United States v. Grunewald, 233 F. 2d 556, 579, 581-582 (Frank, J., dissenting), rev’d, 353 U. S. 391 (1957). We have recently noted that the privilege against self-incrimination — the essential mainstay of our adversary system — is founded on a complex of values, Murphy v. Waterfront Comm’n, 378 U. S. 52, 55-57, n. 5 (1964); Tehan v. Shott, 382 U. S. 406, 414-415, n. 12 (1966). All these policies point to one overriding thought: the constitutional foundation underlying the privilege is the respect a government — state or federal— must accord to the dignity and integrity of its citizens. To maintain a “fair state-individual balance,” to require the government “to shoulder the entire load,” 8 Wigmore, Evidence 317 (McNaughton rev. 1961), to respect the inviolability of the human personality, our accusatory system of criminal justice demands that the government seeking to punish an individual produce the evidence against him by its own independent labors, rather than by the cruel, simple expedient of compelling it from his own mouth. Chambers v. Florida, 309 U. S. 227, 235-238 (1940). In sum, the privilege is fulfilled only when the person is guaranteed the right “to remain silent unless he chooses to speak in the unfettered exercise of his own will.” Malloy v. Hogan, 378 U. S. 1, 8 (1964).
The question in these cases is whether the privilege is fully applicable during a period of custodial interroga*461tion. In this Court, the privilege has consistently been accorded a liberal construction. Albertson v. SACB, 382 U. S. 70, 81 (1965); Hoffman v. United States, 341 U. S.. 479, 486 (1951); Arndstein v. McCarthy, 254 U. S. 71, 72-73 (1920); Counselman v. Hitchock, 142 U. S. 547, 562 (1892). We are satisfied that all the principles embodied in the privilege apply to informal compulsion exerted by law-enforcement officers during in-custody questioning. An individual swept from familiar surroundings into police custody, surrounded by antagonistic forces, and subjected to the techniques of persuasion described above cannot be otherwise than under compulsion to speak. As a practical matter, the compulsion to speak in the isolated setting of the police station may well be greater than in courts or other official investigations, where there are often impartial observers to guard against intimidation or trickery.30
This question, in fact, could have been taken as settled in federal courts almost 70 years ago, when, in Bram v. United States, 168 U. S. 532, 542 (1897), this Court held:
“In criminal trials, in the courts of the United States, wherever a question arises whether a confession is incompetent because not voluntary, the issue is controlled by that portion of the Fifth Amendment . . . commanding that no person ‘shall be compelled in any criminal case to be a witness against himself.’ ”
In Bram, the Court reviewed the British and American history and case law and set down the Fifth Amendment standard for compulsion which we implement today:
“Much of the confusion which has resulted from the effort to deduce from the adjudged cases what *462would be a sufficient quantum of proof to show that a confession was or was not voluntary, has arisen from a misconception of the subject to which the proof must address itself. The rule is not that in order to render a statement admissible the proof must be adequate to establish that the particular communications contained in a statement were voluntarily made, but it must be sufficient to establish that the making of the statement was voluntary; that is to say, that from the causes, which the law treats as legally sufficient to engender in the mind of the accused hope or fear in respect to the crime charged, the accused was not involuntarily impelled to make a statement, when but for the improper influences he would have remained silent. . . .” 168 U. S., at 549. And see, id., at 542.
The Court has adhered to this reasoning. In 1924, Mr. Justice Brandéis wrote for a unanimous Court in reversing a conviction resting on a compelled confession, Wan v. United States, 266 U. S. 1. He stated:
“In the federal courts, the requisite of voluntariness is not satisfied by establishing merely that the confession was not induced by a promise or a threat. A confession is voluntary in law if, and only if, it was, in fact, voluntarily made. A confession may have been given voluntarily, although it was made to police officers, while in custody, and in answer to an examination conducted by them. But a confession obtained by compulsion must be excluded whatever may have been the character of the compulsion, and whether the compulsion was applied in a judicial proceeding or otherwise. Bram v. United States, 168 U. S. 532.” 266 U. S., at 14-15.
In addition to the expansive historical development of the privilege and the sound policies which have nurtured *463its evolution, judicial precedent thus clearly establishes its application to incommunicado interrogation. In fact, the Government concedes this point as well established in No. 761, Westover v. United States, stating: “We have no doubt . . . that it is possible for a suspect’s Fifth Amendment right to be violated during in-custody questioning by a law-enforcement officer.” 31
Because of the adoption by Congress of Rule 5 (a) of the Federal Rules of Criminal Procedure, and this Court’s effectuation of that Rule in McNabb v. United States, 318 U. S. 332 (1943), and Mallory v. United States, 354 U. S. 449 (1957), we have had little occasion in the past quarter century to reach the constitutional issues in dealing with federal interrogations. These supervisory rules, requiring production of an arrested person before a commissioner “without unnecessary delay” and excluding evidence obtained in default of that statutory obligation, were nonetheless responsive to the same considerations of Fifth Amendment policy that unavoidably face us now as to the States. In McNabb, 318 U. S., at 343-344, and in Mallory, 354 U. S., at 455-456, we recognized both the dangers of interrogation and the appropriateness of prophylaxis stemming from the very fact of interrogation itself.32
Our decision in Malloy v. Hogan, 378 U. S. 1 (1964), necessitates an examination of the scope of the privilege in state cases as well. In Malloy, we squarely held the *464privilege applicable to the States, and held that the substantive standards underlying the privilege applied with full force to state court proceedings. There, as in Murphy v. Waterfront Comm’n, 378 U. S. 52 (1964), and Griffin v. California, 380 U. S. 609 (1965), we applied the existing Fifth Amendment standards to the case before us. Aside from the holding itself, the reasoning in Malloy made clear what had already become apparent — that the substantive and procedural safeguards surrounding admissibility of confessions in state cases had become exceedingly exacting, reflecting all the policies embedded in the privilege, 378 U. S., at 7-8.33 The voluntariness doctrine in the state cases, as Malloy indicates, encompasses all interrogation practices which are likely to exert such pressure upon an individual as to disable him from *465making a free and rational choice.34 The implications of this proposition were elaborated in our decision in Escobedo v. Illinois, 378 U. S. 478, decided one week after Malloy applied the privilege to the States.
Our holding there stressed the fact that the police had not advised the defendant of his constitutional privilege to remain silent at the outset of the interrogation, and we drew attention to that fact at several points in the decision, 378 U. S., at 483, 485, 491. This was no isolated factor, but an essential ingredient in our decision. The entire thrust of police interrogation there, as in all the cases today, was to put the defendant in such an emotional state as to impair his capacity for rational judgment. The abdication of the constitutional privilege— the choice on his part to speak to the police — was not made knowingly or competently because of the failure to apprise him of his rights; the compelling atmosphere of the in-custody interrogation, and not an independent decision on his part, caused the defendant to speak.
A different phase of the Escobedo decision was significant in its attention to the absence of counsel during the questioning. There, as in the cases today, we sought a protective device to dispel the compelling atmosphere of the interrogation. In Escobedo, however, the police did not relieve the defendant of the anxieties which they had created in the interrogation rooms. Rather, they denied his request for the assistance of counsel, 378 U. S., at 481, 488, 491.35 This heightened his dilemma, and *466made his later statements the product of this compulsion. Cf. Haynes v. Washington, 373 U. S. 503, 514 (1963). The denial of the defendant’s request for his attorney thus undermined his ability to exercise the privilege— to remain silent if he chose or to speak without any intimidation, blatant or subtle. The presence of counsel, in all the cases before us today, would be the adequate protective device necessary to make the process of police interrogation conform to the dictates of the privilege. His presence would insure that statements made in the government-established atmosphere are not the product of compulsion.
It was in this manner that Escobedo explicated another facet of the pre-trial privilege, noted in many of the Court’s prior decisions: the protection of rights at trial.36 That counsel is present when statements are taken from an individual during interrogation obviously enhances the integrity of the fact-finding processes in court. The presence of an attorney, and the warnings delivered to the individual, enable the defendant under otherwise compelling circumstances to tell his story without fear, effectively, and in a way that eliminates the evils in the interrogation process. Without the protections flowing from adequate warnings and the rights of counsel, “all the careful safeguards erected around the giving of testimony, whether by an accused or any other witness, would become empty formalities in a procedure where the most compelling possible evidence of guilt, a confession, would have already been obtained at the unsupervised pleasure of the police.” Mapp v. Ohio, 367 U. S. 643, 685 (1961) (Harlan, J., dissenting). Cf. Pointer v. Texas, 380 U. S. 400 (1965).
*467III.
Today, then, there can be no doubt that the Fifth Amendment privilege is available outside of criminal court proceedings and serves to protect persons in all settings in which their freedom of action is curtailed in any significant way from being compelled to incriminate themselves. We have concluded that without proper safeguards the process of in-custody interrogation of persons suspected or accused of crime contains inherently compelling pressures which work to undermine the individual’s will to resist and to compel him to speak where he would not otherwise do so freely. In order, to combat these pressures and to permit a full opportunity to exercise the privilege against self-incrimination, the accused must be adequately and effectively apprised of his rights and the exercise of those rights must be fully honored.
It is impossible for us to foresee the potential alternatives for protecting the privilege which might be devised by Congress or the States in the exercise of their creative rule-making capacities. Therefore we cannot say that the Constitution necessarily requires adherence to any particular solution for the inherent compulsions of the interrogation process as it is presently conducted. Our decision in no way creates a constitutional straitjacket which will handicap sound efforts at reform, nor is it intended to have this effect. We encourage Congress and the States to continue their laudable search for increasingly effective ways of protecting the rights of the individual while promoting efficient enforcement of our criminal laws. However, unless we are shown other procedures which are at least as effective in apprising accused persons of their right of silence and in assuring a continuous opportunity to exercise it, the following safeguards must be observed.
At the outset, if a person in custody is to be subjected to interrogation, he must first be informed in clear and *468unequivocal terms that he has the right to remain silent. For those unaware of the privilege, the warning is needed simply to make them aware of it — the threshold requirement for an intelligent decision as to its exercise. More important, such a warning is an absolute prerequisite in overcoming the inherent pressures of the interrogation atmosphere. It is not just the subnormal or woefully ignorant who succumb to an interrogator’s imprecations, whether implied or expressly stated, that the interrogation will continue until a confession is obtained or that silence in the face of accusation is itself damning and will bode ill when presented to a jury.37 Further, the warning will show the individual that his interrogators are prepared to recognize his privilege should he choose to exercise it.
The Fifth Amendment privilege is so fundamental to our system of constitutional rule and the expedient of giving an adequate warning as to the availability of the privilege so simple, we will not pause to inquire in individual cases whether the defendant was aware of his rights without a warning being given. Assessments of the knowledge the defendant possessed, based on infor*469mation as to his age, education, intelligence, or prior contact with authorities, can never be more than speculation; 38 a warning is a clearcut fact. More important, whatever the background of the person interrogated, a warning at the time of the interrogation is indispensable to overcome its pressures and to insure that the individual knows he is free to exercise the privilege at that point in time.
The warning of the right to remain silent must be accompanied by the explanation that anything said can and will be used against the individual in court. This warning is needed in order to make him aware not only of the privilege, but also of the consequences of forgoing it. It is only through an awareness of these consequences that there can be any assurance of real understanding and intelligent exercise of the privilege. Moreover, this warning may serve to make the individual more acutely aware that he is faced with a phase of the adversary system — -that he is not in the presence of persons acting solely in his interest.
The circumstances surrounding in-custody interrogation can operate very quickly to overbear the will of one merely made aware of his privilege by his interrogators. Therefore, the right to have counsel present at the interrogation is indispensable to the protection of the Fifth Amendment privilege under the system we delineate today. Our aim is to assure that the individual’s right to choose between silence and speech remains unfettered throughout the interrogation process. A once-stated warning, delivered by those who will conduct the interrogation, cannot itself suffice to that end among those who most require knowledge of their rights. A mere *470warning given by the interrogators is not alone sufficient to accomplish that end. Prosecutors themselves claim that the admonishment of the right to remain silent without more “will benefit only the recidivist and the professional.” Brief for the National District Attorneys Association as amicus curiae, p. 14. Even preliminary advice given to the accused by his own attorney can be swiftly overcome by the secret interrogation process. Cf. Escobedo v. Illinois, 378 U. S. 478, 485, n. 5. Thus, the need for counsel to protect the Fifth Amendment privilege comprehends not merely a right to consult with counsel prior to questioning, but also to have counsel present during any questioning if the defendant so desires.
The presence of counsel at the interrogation may serve several significant subsidiary functions as well. If the accused decides to talk to his interrogators, the assistance of counsel can mitigate the dangers of untrustworthiness. With a lawyer present the likelihood that the police will practice coercion is reduced, and if coercion is nevertheless exercised the lawyer can testify to it in court. The presence of a lawyer can also help to guarantee that the accused gives a fully accurate statement to the police and that the statement is rightly reported by the prosecution at trial. See Crooker v. California, 357 U. S. 433, 443-448 (1958) (Douglas, J., dissenting).
An individual need not make a pre-interrogation request for a lawyer. While such request affirmatively secures his right to have one, his failure to ask for a lawyer does not constitute a waiver. No effective waiver of the right to counsel during interrogation can be recognized unless specifically made after the warnings we here delineate have been given. The accused who does not know his rights and therefore does not make a request *471may be the person who most needs counsel. As the California Supreme Court has aptly put it:
“Finally, we must recognize that the imposition of the requirement for the request would discriminate against the defendant who does not know his rights. The defendant who does not ask for counsel is the very defendant who most needs counsel. We cannot penalize a defendant who, not understanding his constitutional rights, does not make the formal request and by such failure demonstrates his helplessness. To require the request would be to favor the defendant whose sophistication or status had fortuitously prompted him to make it.” People v. Dorado, 62 Cal. 2d 338, 351, 398 P. 2d 361, 369-370, 42 Cal. Rptr. 169, 177-178 (1965) (Tobriner, J.).
In Carnley v. Cochran, 369 U. S. 506, 513 (1962), we stated: “[I]t is settled that where the assistance of counsel is a constitutional requisite, the right to be furnished counsel does not depend on a request.” This proposition applies with equal force in the context of providing counsel to protect an accused’s Fifth Amendment privilege in the face of interrogation.39 Although the role of counsel at trial differs from the role during interrogation, the differences are not relevant to the question whether a request is a prerequisite.
Accordingly we hold that an individual held for interrogation must be clearly informed that he has the right to consult with a lawyer and to have the lawyer with him during interrogation under the system for protecting the privilege we delineate today. As with the warnings of the right to remain silent and that anything stated can be used in evidence against him, this warning is an absolute prerequisite to interrogation. No amount of *472circumstantial evidence that the person may have been aware of this right will suffice to stand in its stead. Only through such a warning is there ascertainable assurance that the accused was aware of this right.
If an individual indicates that he wishes the assistance of counsel before any interrogation occurs, the authorities cannot rationally ignore or deny his request on the basis that the individual does not have or cannot afford a retained attorney. The financial ability of the individual has no relationship to the scope of the rights involved here. The privilege against self-incrimination secured by the Constitution applies to all individuals. The need for counsel in order to protect the privilege exists for the indigent as well as the affluent. In fact, were we to limit these constitutional rights to those who can retain an attorney, our decisions today would be of little significance. The cases before us as well as the vast majority of confession cases with which we have dealt in the past involve those unable to retain counsel.40 While authorities are not required to relieve the accused of his poverty, they have the obligation not to take advantage of indigence in the administration of justice.41 Denial *473of counsel to the indigent at the time of interrogation while allowing an attorney to those who can afford one would be no more supportable by reason or logic than the similar situation at trial and on appeal struck down in Gideon v. Wainwright, 372 U. S. 335 (1963), and Douglas v. California, 372 U. S. 353 (1963).
In order fully to apprise a person interrogated of the extent of his rights under this system then, it is necessary to warn him not only that he has the right to consult with an attorney, but also that if he is indigent a lawyer will be appointed to represent him. Without this additional warning, the admonition of the right to consult with counsel would often be understood as meaning only that he can consult with a lawyer if he has one or has the funds to obtain one. The warning of a right to counsel would be hollow if not couched in terms that would convey to the indigent — the person most often subjected to interrogation — the knowledge that he too has a right to have counsel present.42 As with the warnings of the right to remain silent and of the general right to counsel, only by effective and express explanation to the indigent of this right can there be assurance that he was truly in a position to exercise it.43
Once warnings have been given, the subsequent procedure is clear. If the individual indicates in any man-*474hén, at any time prior to or during questioning, that he wishes to remain silent, the interrogation must cease.44 At this point he has shown that he intends to exercise his Fifth Amendment privilege; any statement taken after the person invokes his privilege cannot be other than the product of compulsion, subtle or otherwise. Without the right to cut off questioning, the setting of in-custody interrogation operates on the individual to overcome free choice in producing a statement after the privilege has been once invoked. If the individual states that he wants an attorney, the interrogation must cease until an attorney is present. At that time, the individual must have an opportunity to confer with the attorney and to have him present during any subsequent questioning. If the individual cannot obtain an attorney and he indicates that he wants one before speaking to police, they must respect his decision to remain silent.
This does not mean, as some have suggested, that each police station must have a “station house lawyer” present at all times to advise prisoners. It does mean, however, that if police propose to interrogate a person they must make known to him that he is entitled to a lawyer and that if he cannot afford one, a lawyer will be provided for him prior to any interrogation. If authorities conclude that they will not provide counsel during a reasonable period of time in which investigation in the field is carried out, they may refrain from doing so without violating the person’s Fifth Amendment privilege so long as they do not question him during that time.
*475If the interrogation continues without the presence of an attorney and a statement is taken, a heavy burden rests on the government to demonstrate that the defendant knowingly and intelligently waived his privilege against self-incrimination and his right to retained or appointed counsel. Escobedo v. Illinois, 378 U. S. 478, 490, n. 14. This Court has always set high standards of proof for the waiver of constitutional rights, Johnson v. Zerbst, 304 U. S. 458 (1938), and we re-assert these standards as applied to in-custody interrogation. Since the State is responsible for establishing the isolated circumstances under which the interrogation takes place and has the only means of making available corroborated evidence of warnings given during incommunicado interrogation, the burden is rightly on its shoulders.
An express statement that the individual is willing to make a statement and does not want an attorney followed closely by a statement could constitute a waiver. But a valid waiver will not be presumed simply from the silence of the accused after warnings are given or simply from the fact that a confession was in fact eventually obtained. A statement we made in Carnley v. Cochran, 369 U. S. 506, 516 (1962), is applicable here:
“Presuming waiver from a silent record is impermissible. The record must show, or there must be an allegation and evidence which show, that an accused was offered counsel but intelligently and understanding^ rejected the offer. Anything less is not waiver.”
See also Glasser v. United States, 315 U. S. 60 (1942). Moreover, where in-custody interrogation is involved, there is no room for the contention that the privilege is waived if the individual answers some questions or gives *476some information on his own prior to invoking his right to remain silent when interrogated.45
Whatever the testimony of the authorities as to waiver of rights by an accused, the fact of lengthy interrogation or incommunicado incarceration before a statement is made is strong evidence that the accused did not validly waive his rights. In these circumstances the fact that the individual eventually made a statement is consistent with the conclusion that the compelling influence of the interrogation finally forced him to do so. It is inconsistent with any notion of a voluntary relinquishment of the privilege. Moreover, any evidence that the accused was threatened, tricked, or cajoled into a waiver will, of course, show that the defendant did not voluntarily waive his privilege. The requirement of warnings and waiver of rights is a fundamental with respect to the Fifth Amendment privilege and not simply a preliminary ritual to existing methods of interrogation.
The warnings required and the waiver necessary in accordance with our opinion today are, in the absence of a fully effective equivalent, prerequisites to the admissibility of any statement made by a defendant. No distinction can be drawn between statements which are direct confessions and statements which amount to “admissions” of part or all of an offense. The privilege against self-incrimination protects the individual from being compelled to incriminate himself in any manner; it does not distinguish degrees of incrimination. Sim*477ilarly, for precisely the same reason, no distinction may be drawn between inculpatory statements and statements alleged to be merely “exculpatory.” If a statement made were in fact truly exculpatory it would, of course, never be used by the prosecution. In fact, statements merely intended to be exculpatory by the defendant are often used to impeach his testimony at trial or to demonstrate untruths in the statement given under interrogation and thus to prove guilt by implication. These statements are incriminating in any meaningful sense of the word and may not be used without the full warnings and effective waiver required for any other statement. In Escobedo itself, the defendant fully intended his accusation of another as the slayer to be exculpatory as to himself.
The principles announced today deal with the protection which must be given to the privilege against self-incrimination when the individual is first subjected to police interrogation while in custody at the station or otherwise deprived of his freedom of action in any significant way. It is at this point that our adversary system of criminal proceedings commences, distinguishing itself at the outset from the inquisitorial system recognized in some countries. Under the system of warnings we delineate today or under any other system which may be devised and found effective, the safeguards to be erected about the privilege must come into play at this point.
Our decision is not intended to hamper the traditional function of police officers in investigating crime. See Escobedo v. Illinois, 378 U. S. 478, 492. When an individual is in custody on probable cause, the police may, of course, seek out evidence in the field to be used at trial against him. Such investigation may include inquiry of persons not under restraint. General on-the-scene questioning as to facts surrounding a crime or other general questioning of citizens in the fact-finding process is not affected by our holding. It is an act of *478responsible citizenship for individuals to give whatever information they may have to aid in law enforcement. In such situations the compelling atmosphere inherent in the process of in-custody interrogation is not necessarily present.46
In dealing with statements obtained through interrogation, we do not purport to find all confessions inadmissible. Confessions remain a proper element in. law enforcement. Any statement given freely and voluntarily without any compelling influences is, of course, admissible in evidence. The fundamental import of the privilege while an individual is in custody is not whether he is allowed to talk to the police without the benefit of warnings and counsel, but whether he can be interrogated. There is no requirement that police, stop a person who enters a police station and states that he wishes to confess to a crime,47 or a person who calls the police to offer a confession or any other statement he desires to make. Volunteered statements of any kind are not barred by the Fifth Amendment and their admissibility is not affected by our holding today. '
To summarize, we hold that when an individual is taken into custody or otherwise deprived of his freedom by the authorities in any significant way and is subjected to questioning, the privilege against self-incrimination is jeopardized. Procedural safeguards must be employed to *479protect the privilege, and unless other fully effective means are adopted to notify the person of his right of silence and to assure that the exercise of the right will be scrupulously honored, the following measures are required. He must be warned prior to any questioning that he has the right to remain silent, that anything he says can be used against him in a court of law, that he has the right to the presence of an attorney, and that if he cannot afford an attorney one will be appointed for him prior to any questioning if he so desires. Opportunity to exercise these rights must be afforded to him throughout the interrogation. After such warnings have been given, and such opportunity afforded him, the individual may knowingly and intelligently waive these rights and agree to answer questions or make a statement. But unless and until such warnings and waiver are demonstrated by the prosecution at trial, no evidence obtained as a result of interrogation can be used against him.48
IV.
A recurrent argument made in these cases is that' society’s need for interrogation outweighs the privilege. This argument is not unfamiliar to this Court. See, e. g., Chambers v. Florida, 309 U. S. 227, 240-241 (1940). The whole thrust of our foregoing discussion demonstrates that the Constitution has prescribed the rights of the individual when confronted with the power of government when it provided in the Fifth Amendment that an individual cannot be compelled to be a witness against himself. That right cannot be abridged. As Mr. Justice Brandéis once observed:
“Decency, security and liberty alike demand that government officials shall be subjected to the same *480rules of conduct that are commands to the citizen. In a government of laws, existence of the government will be imperilled if it fails to observe the law scrupulously. Our Government is the potent, the omnipresent teacher. For good or' for ill, it teaches the whole people by its example. Crime is contagious. If the Government becomes a lawbreaker, it breeds contempt for law; it invites every man to become a law unto himself; it invites anarchy. To declare that in the administration of the criminal law the end justifies the means . . . would bring terrible retribution. Against that pernicious doctrine this Court should resolutely set its face.” Olmstead v. United States, 277 U. S. 438, 485 (1928) (dissenting opinion) ,49
In this connection, one of our country’s distinguished jurists has pointed out: “The quality of a nation’s civilization can be largely measured by the methods it uses in the enforcement of its criminal law.” 50
If the individual desires to exercise his privilege, he has the right to do so. This is not for the authorities to decide. An attorney may advise his client not to talk to police until he has had an opportunity to investigate the case, or he may wish to be present with his client during any police questioning. In doing so an attorney is merely exercising the good professional judgment he has been, taught. This is not cause for considering the attorney a menace to law enforcement. He is merely carrying out what he is sworn to do under his oáth— to protect to the extent of his ability the rights of his *481client. In fulfilling this responsibility the attorney plays a vital role in the administration of criminal justice under our Constitution.
In announcing these principles, we are not unmindful of the burdens which law enforcement officials must bear, often under trying circumstances. We also fully recognize the obligation of all citizens to aid in enforcing the criminal laws. This- Court, while protecting individual rights, has always given ample latitude to law enforcement agencies in the legitimate exercise of their duties. The limits we have placed on the interrogation process should not constitute an undue interference with a proper system of law enforcement. As we have noted, our decision does not in any way preclude police from carrying out their traditional investigatory functions. Although confessions may play an important role in some convictions, the cases before us present graphic examples of the overstatement of the “need” for confessions. In each case authorities conducted interrogations ranging up to five days in duration despite the presence, through standard investigating practices, of considerable evidence against each defendant.51 Further examples are chronicled in our prior cases. See, e. g., Haynes v. Washington, 373 U. S. 503, 518-519 (1963); Rogers v. Richmond, 365 U. S. 534, 541 (1961); Malinski v. New York, 324 U. S. 401, 402 (1945).52
*482It is also urged that an unfettered right to detention for interrogation should be allowed because it will often redound to the benefit of the person questioned. When police inquiry determines that there is no reason to believe that the person has committed any crime, it is said, he will be released without need for further formal procedures. The person who has committed no offense, however, will be better able to clear himself after warnings with counsel present than without. It can be assumed that in such circumstances a lawyer would advise his client to talk freely to police in order to clear himself.
Custodial interrogation, by contrast, does not necessarily afford the innocent an opportunity to clear themselves. A serious consequence of the present practice of the interrogation alleged to be beneficial for the innocent is that many arrests “for investigation” subject large numbers of innocent persons to detention and interrogation. In one of the cases before us, No. 584, California v. Stewart, police held four persons, who were in the defendant’s house at the time of the arrest, in jail for five days until defendant confessed. At that time they were finally released. Police stated that there was “no evidence to connect them with any crime.” Available statistics on the extent of this practice where it is condoned indicate that these four are far from alone in being subjected to arrest, prolonged detention, and interrogation without the requisite probable cause.53
*483Over the years the Federal Bureau of Investigation has compiled an exemplary record of effective law enforcement while advising any suspect or arrested person, at the outset of an interview, that he is not required to make a statement, that any statement may be used against him in court, that the individual may obtain the services of an attorney of his own choice and, more recently, that he has a right to free counsel if he is unable to pay.54 A letter received from the Solicitor General in response to a question from the Bench makes it clear that the present pattern of warnings and respect for the *484rights of the individual followed as a practice by the FBI is consistent with the procedure which we delineate today. It states:
“At the oral argument of the above cause, Mr. Justice Fortas asked whether I could provide certain information as to the practices followed by the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I have directed these questions to the attention of the Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation and am submitting herewith a statement of the questions and of the answers which we have received.
“ ‘(1) When an individual is interviewed by agents of the Bureau, what warning is given to him?
“ 'The standard warning long given by Special Agents of the FBI to both suspects and persons under arrest is that the person has a right to say nothing and a right to counsel, and that any statement he does make may be used against him in court. Examples of this warning are to be found in the Westover case at 342 F. 2d 684 (1965), and Jackson v. U. S., 337 F. 2d 136 (1964), cert. den. 380 U. S. 935.
“ 'After passage of the Criminal Justice Act of 1964, which provides free counsel for Federal defendants unable to pay, we added to our instructions to Special Agents the requirement that any person who is under arrest for an offense under FBI jurisdiction, or whose arrest is contemplated following the interview, must also be advised of his right to free counsel if he is unable to pay, and the fact that such counsel will be assigned by the Judge. At the same time, we broadened the right to counsel warn*485ing to read counsel of his own choice, or anyone else with whom he might wish to speak.
“ ‘(2) When is the warning given?
“ ‘The FBI warning is given to a suspect at the very outset of the interview, as shown in the West-over case, cited above. The warning may be given to a person arrested as soon as practicable after the arrest, as shown in the Jackson case, also cited above, and in U. S. v. Konigsberg, 336 F. 2d 844 (1964), cert. den. 379 U. S. 933, but in any event it must precede the interview with the person for a confession or admission of his own guilt.
“ ‘(3) What is the Bureau’s practice in the event that (a) the individual requests counsel and (b) counsel appears?
“ ‘When the person who has been warned of his right to counsel decides that he wishes to consult with counsel before making a statement, the interview is terminated at that point, Shultz v. U. S., 351 F. 2d 287 (1965). It may be continued, however, as to all matters other than the person’s own guilt or innocence. If he is indecisive in his request for counsel, there may be some question on whether he did or did not waive counsel. Situations of this kind must necessarily be left to the judgment of the interviewing Agent. For example, in Hiram v. U. S., 354 F. 2d 4 (1965), the Agent’s conclusion that the person arrested had waived his right to counsel was upheld by the courts.
“ ‘A person being interviewed and desiring to consult counsel by telephone must be permitted to do so, as shown in Caldwell v. U. S., 351 F. 2d 459 (1965). When counsel appears in person, he is permitted to confer with his client in private.
*486“ ‘(4) What is the Bureau’s practice if the individual requests counsel, but cannot afford to retain an attorney?
. “ Tf any person being interviewed after warning of counsel decides that he wishes to consult with counsel before proceeding further the interview is terminated, as shown above. FBI Agents do not pass judgment on the ability of the person to pay for counsel. They do, however, advise those who have been arrested for an offense under FBI jurisdiction, or whose arrest is contemplated following the interview, of a right to free counsel if they are unable to pay, and the availability of such counsel from the Judge.’ ”55
The practice of the FBI can readily be emulated by state and local enforcement agencies. The argument that the FBI deals with different crimes than are dealt with by state authorities does not mitigate the significance of the FBI experience.56
The experience in some other countries also suggests that the danger to law enforcement in curbs on interrogation is overplayed. The English procedure since 1912 under the Judges’ Rules is significant. As recently *487strengthened, the Rules require that a cautionary warning be given an accused by a police officer as soon as he has evidence that affords reasonable grounds for suspicion; they also require that any statement made be given by the accused without questioning by police.57 *488The right of the individual to consult with an attorney during this period is expressly recognized.58
The safeguards present under Scottish law may be even greater than in England. Scottish judicial decisions bar use in evidence of most confessions obtained through police interrogation.59 In India, confessions made to police not in the presence of a magistrate have been ex-*489eluded by rule of evidence since 1872, at a time when it operated under British law.60 Identical provisions appear in the Evidence Ordinance of Ceylon, enacted in 1895.61 Similarly, in our country the Uniform Code of Military Justice has long provided that no suspect may be interrogated without first being warned of his right not to make a statement and that any statement he makes may be used against him.62 Denial of the right to consult counsel during interrogation has also been proscribed by military tribunals.63 There appears to have been no marked detrimental effect on criminal law enforcement in these jurisdictions as a result of these rules. Conditions of law enforcement in our country are sufficiently similar to permit reference to this experience as assurance that lawlessness will not result from warning an individual of his rights or allowing him to exercise them. Moreover, it is consistent with our legal system that we give at least as much protection to these rights as is given in the jurisdictions described. We deal in our country with rights grounded in a specific requirement of the Fifth Amendment of the Constitution, *490whereas other jurisdictions arrived at their conclusions on the basis of principles of justice not so specifically defined.64
It is also urged upon us that we withhold decision on this issue until state legislative bodies and advisory groups have had an opportunity to deal with these problems by rule making.65 We have already pointed out that the Constitution does not require any specific code of procedures for protecting the privilege against self-incrimination during custodial interrogation. Congress and the States are free to develop their own safeguards for the privilege, so long as they are fully as effective as those described above in informing accused persons of their right of silence and in affording a continuous opportunity to exercise it. In any event, however, the issues presented are of constitutional dimensions and must be determined by the courts. The admissibility of a statement in the face of a claim that it was obtained in violation of the defendant’s constitutional rights is an issue the resolution of which has long since been undertaken by this Court. See Hopt v. Utah, 110 U. S. 574 (1884). Judicial solutions to problems of constitutional dimension have evolved decade by decade. As courts have been presented with the need to enforce constitutional rights, they have found means of doing so. That was our responsibility when Escobedo was before us and it is our *491responsibility today. Where rights secured by the Constitution are involved, there can be no rule making or legislation which would abrogate them.
V.
Because of the nature of the problem and because of its recurrent significance in numerous cases, we have to this point discussed the relationship of the Fifth Amendment privilege to police interrogation without specific concentration on the facts of the cases before us. We turn now to these facts to consider the application to these cases of the constitutional principles discussed above. In each instance, we have concluded that statements were obtained from the defendant under circumstances that did not meet constitutional standards for protection of the privilege.
No. 759. Miranda v. Arizona.
On March 13, 1963, petitioner, Ernesto Miranda, was arrested at his home and taken in custody to a Phoenix police station. He was there identified by the complaining witness. The police then took him to “Interrogation Room No. 2” of the detective bureau. There he was questioned by two police officers. The officers admitted at trial that Miranda was not advised that he had a right to have an attorney present.66 Two hours later, the *492officers emerged from the interrogation room with a written confession signed by Miranda. At the top of the statement was a typed paragraph stating that the confession was made voluntarily, without threats or promises of immunity and “with full knowledge of my legal rights, understanding any statement I make may be used against me.” 67
At his trial before a jury, the written confession was admitted into evidence over the objection of defense counsel, and the officers testified to the prior oral confession made by Miranda during the interrogation. Miranda was found guilty of kidnapping and rape. He was sentenced to 20 to 30 years’ imprisonment on each count, the sentences to run concurrently. On appeal, the Supreme Court of Arizona held that Miranda’s constitutional rights were not violated in obtaining the confession and affirmed the conviction. 98 Ariz. 18, 401 P. 2d 721. In reaching its decision, the court emphasized heavily the fact that Miranda did not specifically request counsel.
We reverse. From the testimony of the officers and by the admission of respondent, it is clear that Miranda was not in any way apprised of his right to consult with an attorney and to have one present during the interrogation, nor was his right not to be compelled to incriminate himself effectively protected in any other manner. Without these warnings the statements were inadmissible. The mere fact that he signed a statement which contained a typed-in clause stating that he had “full knowledge” of his “legal rights” does not approach the knowing and intelligent waiver required to relinquish constitutional rights. Cf. Haynes v. Washington, 373 U. S. *493503, 512-513 (1963); Haley v. Ohio, 332 U. S. 596, 601 (1948) (opinion of Mr. Justice Douglas).
No. 760. Vignera v. New York.
Petitioner, Michael Vignera, was picked up by New York police on October 14, 1960, in connection with the robbery three days earlier of a Brooklyn dress shop. They took him to the 17th Detective Squad headquarters in Manhattan. Sometime thereafter he was taken to the 66th Detective Squad. There a detective questioned Vignera with respect to the robbery. Vignera orally admitted the robbery to the detective. The detective was asked on cross-examination at trial by defense counsel whether Vignera was warned of his right to counsel before being interrogated. The prosecution objected to the question and the trial judge sustained the objection. Thus, the defense was precluded from making any showing that warnings had not been given. While at the 66th Detective Squad, Vignera was identified by the s'tore owner and a saleslady as the man who robbed the dress shop. At about 3 p. m. he was formally arrested. The police then transported him to still another station, the 70th Precinct in Brooklyn, “for detention.” At 11 p. m. Vignera was questioned by an assistant district attorney in the presence of a hearing reporter who transcribed the questions and Vignera’s answers. This verbatim account of these proceedings contains no statement of any warnings given by the assistant district attorney. At Vignera’s trial on a charge of first degree robbery, the detective testified as to the oral confession. The transcription of the statement taken was also introduced in evidence. At the conclusion of the testimony, the trial judge charged the jury in part as follows:
“The law doesn’t say that the confession is void or invalidated because the police officer didn’t advise the defendant as to his rights. Did you hear what *494I said? I am telling you what the law of the State of New York is.”
Yignera was found guilty of first degree robbery. He was subsequently adjudged a third-felony offender and sentenced to 30 to 60 years’ imprisonment.68 The conviction was affirmed without opinion by the Appellate Division, Second Department, 21 App. Div. 2d 752, 252 N. Y. S. 2d 19, and by the Court of Appeals, also without opinion, 15 N. Y. 2d 970, 207 N. E. 2d 527, 259 N. Y. S. 2d 857, remittitur amended, 16 N. Y. 2d 614, 209 N. E. 2d 110, 261 N. Y. S. 2d 65. In argument to the Court of Appeals, the State contended that Vignera had no constitutional right to be advised of his right to counsel or his privilege against self-incrimination.
We reverse. The foregoing indicates that Vignera was not warned of any of his rights before the questioning by the detective and by the assistant district attorney. No other steps were taken to protect these rights. Thus he was not effectively apprised of his Fifth Amendment privilege or of his right to have counsel present and his statements are inadmissible.
No. 761. Westover v. United States.
At approximately 9:45 p. m. on March 20, 1963, petitioner, Carl Calvin Westover, was arrested by local police in Kansas City as a suspect in two Kansas City robberies. A report was also received from the FBI that he was wanted on a felony charge in California. The local authorities took him to a police station and placed him in a line-up on the local charges, and at about 11:45 p. m. he was booked. Kansas City police interrogated West-*495over on the night of his arrest. He denied any knowledge of criminal activities. The next day local officers interrogated him again throughout the morning. Shortly before noon they informed the FBI that they were through interrogating Westover and that the FBI could proceed to interrogate him. There is nothing in the record to indicate that Westover was ever given any warning as to his rights by local police. At noon, three special agents of the FBI continued the interrogation in a private interview room of the Kansas City Police Department, this time with respect to the robbery of a savings and loan association and a bank in Sacramento, California. After two or two and one-half hours, West-over signed separate confessions to each of these two robberies which had been prepared by one of the agents during the interrogation. At trial one of the agents testified, and a paragraph on each of the statements states, that the agents advised Westover that he did not have to make a statement, that any statement he made could be used against him, and that he had the right to see an attorney.
Westover was tried by a jury in federal court and convicted of the California robberies. His statements were introduced at trial. He was sentenced to 15 years’ imprisonment on each count, the sentences to run consecutively. On appeal, the conviction was affirmed by the Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit. 342 F. 2d 684.
We reverse. On the facts of this case we cannot find that Westover knowingly and intelligently waived his right to remain silent and his right to consult with counsel prior to the time he made the statement.69 At the *496time the FBI agents began questioning Westover, he had been in custody for over 14 hours and had been interrogated at length during that period. The FBI interrogation began immediately upon the conclusion of the interrogation by Kansas City police and was conducted in local police headquarters. Although the two law enforcement authorities are legally distinct and the crimes for which they interrogated Westover were different, the impact on him was that of a continuous period of questioning. There is no evidence of any warning given prior to the FBI interrogation nor is there any evidence of an articulated waiver of rights after the FBI commenced its interrogation. The record simply shows that the defendant did in fact confess a short time after being turned over to the FBI following interrogation by local police. Despite the fact that the FBI agents gave warnings at the outset of their interview, from West-over’s point of view the warnings came at the end of the interrogation process. In these circumstances an intelligent waiver of constitutional rights cannot be assumed.
We do not suggest that law enforcement authorities are precluded from questioning any individual who has been held for a period of time by other authorities and interrogated by them without appropriate warnings. A different case would be presented if an accused were taken into custody by the second authority, removed both in time and place from his original surroundings, and then adequately advised of his rights and given an opportunity to exercise them. But here the FBI interrogation was conducted immediately following the state interrogation in the same police station — in the same compelling surroundings. Thus, in obtaining a confession from West-*497over the federal authorities were the beneficiaries of the pressure applied by the local in-custody interrogation. In these circumstances the giving of warnings alone was not sufficient to protect the privilege.
No. 584. California v. Stewart.
In the course of investigating a series of purse-snatch robberies in which one of the victims had died of injuries inflicted by her assailant, respondent, Roy Allen Stewart, was pointed out to Los Angeles police as the endorser of dividend checks taken in one of the robberies. At about 7:15 p. m., January 31, 1963, police officers went to Stewart’s house and arrested him. One of the officers asked Stewart if they could search the house, to which he replied, “Go ahead.” The search turned up various items taken from the five robbery victims. At the time of Stewart’s arrest, police also arrested Stewart’s wife and three other persons who were visiting him. These four were jailed along with Stewart and were interrogated. Stewart was taken to the University Station of the Los Angeles Police Department where he was placed in a cell. During the next five days, police interrogated Stewart on nine different occasions. Except during the first interrogation session, when he was confronted with an accusing witness, Stewart was isolated with his interrogators.
During the ninth interrogation session, Stewart admitted that he had robbed the deceased and stated that he had not meant to hurt her. Police then brought Stewart before a magistrate for the first time. Since there was no evidence to connect them with any crime, the police then released the other four persons arrested with him.
Nothing in the record specifically indicates whether Stewart was or was not advised of his right to remain silent or his right to counsel. In a number of instances, *498however, the interrogating officers were asked to recount everything that was said during the interrogations. None indicated that Stewart was ever advised of his rights.
Stewart was charged with kidnapping to commit robbery, rape, and murder. At his trial, transcripts of the first interrogation and the confession at the last interrogation were introduced in evidence. The jury found Stewart guilty of robbery and first degree murder and fixed the penalty as death. On appeal, the Supreme Court of California reversed. 62 Cal. 2d 571, 400 P. 2d 97, 43 Cal. Rptr. 201. It held that under this Court’s decision in Escobedo, Stewart should have been advised of his right to remain silent and of his right to counsel and that it would not presume in the face of a silent record that the police advised Stewart of his rights.70
We affirm.71 In dealing with custodial interrogation, we will not presume that a defendant has been effectively apprised of his rights and that his privilege against self-incrimination has been adequately safeguarded on a record that does not show that any warnings have been given or that any effective alternative has been employed. Nor can a knowing and intelligent waiver of *499these rights be assumed on a silent record. Furthermore, Stewart’s steadfast denial of the alleged offenses through eight of the nine interrogations over a period of five days is subject to no other construction than that he was compelled by persistent interrogation to forgo his Fifth Amendment privilege.
Therefore, in accordance with the foregoing, the judgments of the Supreme Court of Arizona in No. 759, of the New York Court of Appeals in No. 760, and of the Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit in No. 761 are reversed. The judgment of the Supreme Court of California in No. 584 is affirmed.
It is so ordered.
dissenting in Nos. 759, 760, and 761, and concurring in the result in No. 584.
It is with regret that I find it necessary to write in these cases. However, I am unable to join the majority because its opinion goes too far on too little, while my dissenting brethren do not go quite far enough. Nor can I join in the Court’s criticism of the present practices of police and investigatory agencies as to custodial interrogation. The materials it refers to as “police manuals” 1 are, as I read them, merely writings in this field by professors and some police officers. Not one is shown by the record here to be the official manual of any police department, much less in universal use in crime detection. Moreover, the examples of police brutality mentioned by the Court2 are rare exceptions to the thousands of cases *500that appear every year in the law reports. The police agencies — all the way from municipal and state forces to the federal bureaus — are responsible for law enforcement and public safety in this country. I am proud of their efforts, which in my view are not fairly characterized by the Court’s opinion.
I.
The ipse dixit of the majority has no support in our cases. Indeed, the Court admits that “we might not find the defendants’ statements [here] to have been involuntary in traditional terms.” Ante, p. 457. In short, the Court has added more to the requirements that the accused is entitled to consult with his lawyer and that he must be given the traditional warning that he may remain silent and that anything that he says may be used against him. Escobedo v. Illinois, 378 U. S. 478, 490-491 (1964). Now, the Court fashions a constitutional rule that the police may engage in no custodial interrogation without additionally advising the accused that he has a right under the Fifth Amendment to the presence of counsel during interrogation and that, if he is without funds, counsel will be furnished him. When at any point during an interrogation the accused seeks affirmatively or impliedly to invoke his rights to silence or counsel, interrogation must be forgone or postponed. The Court further holds that failure to follow the new procedures requires inexorably the exclusion of any statement by the accused, as well as the fruits thereof. Such a strict constitutional specific inserted at the nerve center of crime detection may well kill the patient.3 *501Since there is at this time a paucity of information and an almost total lack of empirical knowledge on the practical operation of requirements truly comparable to those announced by the majority, I would be more restrained lest we go too far too fast.
II.
Custodial interrogation has long been recognized as “undoubtedly an essential tool in effective law enforcement.” Haynes v. Washington, 373 U. S. 503, 515 (1963). Recognition of this fact should put us on guard against the promulgation of doctrinaire rules. Especially is this true where the Court finds that “the Constitution has prescribed” its holding and where the light of our past cases, from Hopt v. Utah, 110 U. S. 574, (1884), down to Haynes v. Washington, supra, is to *502the contrary. Indeed, even in Escobedo the Court never hinted that an affirmative “waiver” was a prerequisite to questioning; that the burden of proof as to waiver was on the prosecution; that the presence of counsel— absent a waiver — during interrogation was required; that a waiver can be withdrawn at the will of the accused; that counsel must be furnished during an accusatory stage to those unable to pay; nor that admissions and exculpatory statements are “confessions.” To require all those things at one gulp should cause the Court to choke over more cases than Crooker v. California, 357 U. S. 433 (1958), and Cicenia v. Lagay, 357 U. S. 504 (1958), which it expressly overrules today.
The rule prior to today — as Mr. Justice Goldberg, the author of the Court’s opinion in Escobedo, stated it in Haynes v. Washington — depended upon “a totality of circumstances evidencing an involuntary . . . admission of guilt.” 373 U. S., at 514. And he concluded:
“Of course, detection and solution of crime is, at best, a difficult and arduous task requiring determination and persistence on the part of all responsible officers charged with the duty of law enforcement. And, certainly, we do not mean to suggest that all interrogation of witnesses and suspects is impermissible. Such questioning is undoubtedly an essential tool in effective law enforcement. The- line between proper and permissible police conduct and techniques and methods offensive to due process is, at best, a difficult one to draw, particularly in cases such as this where it is necessary to make fine judgments as to the effect of psychologically coercive pressures and inducements on the mind and will of an accused. ... We are here impelled to the conclusion, from all of the facts presented, that the bounds of due process have been exceeded.” Id., at 514-515.
*503III.
I would continue to follow that rule. Under the “totality of circumstances” rule of which my Brother Goldberg spoke in Haynes, I would consider in each case whether the police officer prior to custodial interrogation added the warning that the suspect might have counsel present at the interrogation and, further, that a court would appoint one at his request if he was too poor to employ counsel. In the absence of warnings, the burden would be on the State to prove that counsel was knowingly and intelligently waived or that in the totality of the circumstances, including the failure to give the necessary warnings, the confession was clearly voluntary.
Rather than employing the arbitrary Fifth Amendment rule 4 which the Court lays down I would follow the more pliable dictates of the Due Process Clauses of the Fifth and Fourteenth Amendments which we are accustomed to administering and which we know from our cases are effective instruments in protecting persons in police custody. In this way we would not be acting in the dark nor in one full sweep changing the traditional rules of custodial interrogation which this Court has for so long recognized as a justifiable and proper tool in balancing individual rights against the rights of society. It will be soon enough to go further when we are able to appraise with somewhat better accuracy the effect of such a holding.
I would affirm the convictions in Miranda v. Arizona, No. 759; Vignera v. New York, No. 760; and Westover v. United States, No. 761. In each of those cases I find from the circumstances no warrant for reversal. In *504 California v. Stewart, No. 584, I would dismiss the writ of certiorari for want of a final judgment, 28 U. S. C. § 1257 (3) (1964 ed.); but if the merits are to be reached I would affirm on the ground that the State failed to fulfill its burden, in the absence of a showing that appropriate warnings were given, of proving a waiver or a totality of circumstances showing voluntariness. Should there be a retrial, I would leave the State free to attempt to prove these elements.
whom Mr. Justice Stewart and Mr. Justice White join,
dissenting.
I believe the decision of the Court represents poor constitutional law and entails harmful consequences for the country at large. How serious these consequences may prove to be only time can tell. But the basic flaws in the Court’s justification seem to me readily apparent now once all sides of the problem are considered.
I. Introduction.
At the outset, it is well to note exactly what is required by the Court’s new constitutional code of rules for confessions. The foremost requirement, upon which later admissibility of a confession depends, is that a fourfold warning be given to a person in custody before he is questioned, namely, that he has a right to remain silent, that anything he says may be used against him, that he has a right to have present an attorney during the questioning, and that if indigent he has a right to a lawyer without charge. To forgo these rights, some affirmative statement of rejection is seemingly required, and threats, tricks, or cajolings to obtain this waiver are forbidden. If before or during questioning the suspect seeks to invoke his right to remain silent, interrogation must be forgone or cease; a request for counsel *505brings about the same result until a lawyer is procured. Finally, there are a miscellany of minor directives, for example, the burden of proof of waiver is on the State, admissions and exculpatory statements are treated just like confessions, withdrawal of a waiver is always permitted, and so forth.1
While the fine points of this scheme are far less clear than the Court admits, the tenor is quite apparent. The new rules are not designed to guard against police brutality or other unmistakably banned forms of coercion. Those who use third-degree tactics and deny them in court are equally able and destined to lie as skillfully about warnings and waivers. Rather, the thrust of the new rules is to negate all pressures, to reinforce the nervous or ignorant suspect, and ultimately to discourage any confession at all. The aim in short is toward “volun-tariness” in a utopian sense, or to view it from a different angle, voluntariness with a vengeance.
To incorporate this notion into the Constitution requires a strained reading of history and precedent and a disregard of the very pragmatic concerns that alone may on occasion justify such strains. I believe that reasoned examination will show that the Due Process Clauses provide an adequate tool for coping with confessions and that, even if the Fifth Amendment privilege against self-incrimination be invoked, its precedents taken as a whole do not sustain the present rules. Viewed as a choice based on pure policy, these new rules prove to be a highly debatable, if not one-sided, appraisal of the competing interests, imposed over widespread objection, at the very time when judicial restraint is most called for by the circumstances.
*506II. Constitutional Premises.
It is most fitting to begin an inquiry into the constitutional precedents by surveying the limits on confessions the Court has evolved under the Due Process Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment. This is so because these cases show that there exists a workable and effective means of dealing with confessions in a judicial manner; because the cases are the baseline from which the Court now departs and so serve to measure the actual as opposed to the professed distance it travels; and because examination of them helps reveal how the Court has coasted into its present position.
The earliest confession cases in this Court emerged from federal prosecutions and were settled on a nonconstitutional basis, the Court adopting the common-law rule that the absence of inducements, promises, and threats made a confession voluntary and admissible. Hopt v. Utah, 110 U. S. 574; Pierce v. United States, 160 U. S. 355. While a later case said the Fifth Amendment privilege controlled admissibility, this proposition was not itself developed in subsequent decisions.2 The Court did, however, heighten the test of admissibility in federal trials to one of voluntariness “in fact,” Wan v. *507 United States, 266 U. S. 1, 14 (quoted, ante, p. 462), and then by and large left federal judges to apply the same standards the Court began to derive in a string of state court cases.
This new line of decisions, testing admissibility by the Due Process Clause, began in 1936 with Brown v. Mississippi, 297 U. S. 278, and must now embrace somewhat more than 30 full opinions of the Court.3 While the voluntariness rubric was repeated in many instances, e. g., Lyons v. Oklahoma, 322 U. S. 596, the Court never pinned it down to a single meaning but on the contrary infused it with a number of different values. To travel quickly over the main themes, there was an initial emphasis on reliability, e. g., Ward v. Texas, 316 U. S. 547, supplemented by concern over the legality and fairness of the police practices, e. g., Ashcraft v. Tennessee, 322 U. S. 143, in an “accusatorial” system of law enforcement, Watts v. Indiana, 338 U. S. 49, 54, and eventually by close attention to the individual’s state of mind and capacity for effective choice, e. g., Gallegos v. Colorado, 370 U. S. 49. The outcome was a continuing re-evaluation on the facts of each case of how much pressure on the suspect was permissible.4
*508Among the criteria often taken into account were threats or imminent danger, e. g., Payne v. Arkansas, 356 U. S. 560, physical deprivations such as lack of sleep or food, e. g., Reck v. Pate, 367 U. S. 433, repeated or extended interrogation, e. g., Chambers v. Florida, 309 U. S. 227, limits on access to counsel or friends, Crooker v. California, 357 U. S. 433; Cicenia v. Lagay, 357 U. S. 504, length and illegality of detention under state law, e. g., Haynes v. Washington, 373 U. S. 503, and individual weakness or incapacities, Lynumn v. Illinois, 372 U. S. 528. Apart from direct physical coercion, however, no single default or fixed combination of defaults guaranteed exclusion, and synopses of the cases would serve little use because the overall gauge has been steadily changing, usually in the direction of restricting admissibility. But to mark just what point had been reached before the Court jumped the rails in Escobedo v. Illinois, 378 U. S. 478, it is worth capsulizing the then-recent case of Haynes v. Washington, 373 U. S. 503. There, Haynes had been held some 16 or more hours in violation of state law before signing the disputed confession, had received no warnings of any kind, and despite requests had been refused access to his wife or to counsel, the police indicating that access would be allowed after a confession. Emphasizing especially this last inducement and rejecting some contrary indicia of voluntariness, the Court in a 5-to-4 decision held the confession inadmissible.
There are several relevant lessons to be drawn from this constitutional history. The first is that with over 25 years of precedent the Court has developed an elaborate, sophisticated, and sensitive approach to. admissibility of confessions. It is “judicial” in its treatment of one case at a time, see Culombe v. Connecticut, 367 U. S. 568, 635 (concurring opinion of The Chief Justice), flexible in its ability to respond to the endless mutations of fact presented, and ever more familiar to the lower courts. *509Of course, strict certainty is not obtained in this developing process, but this is often so with constitutional principles, and disagreement is usually confined to that borderland of close cases where it matters least.
The second point is that in practice and from time to time in principle, the Court has given ample recognition to society’s interest in suspect questioning as an instrument of law enforcement. Cases countenancing quite significant pressures can be cited without difficulty,5 and the lower courts may often have been yet more tolerant. Of course the limitations imposed today were rejected by necessary implication in case after case, the right to warnings having been explicitly rebuffed in this Court many years ago. Powers v. United States, 223 U. S. 303; Wilson v. United States, 162 U. S. 613. As recently as Haynes v. Washington, 373 U. S. 503, 515, the Court openly acknowledged that questioning of witnesses and suspects “is undoubtedly an essential tool in effective law enforcement.” Accord, Crooker v. California, 357 U. S. 433, 441.
Finally, the cases disclose that the language in many of the opinions overstates the actual course of decision. It has been said, for example, that an admissible confession must be made by the suspect “in the unfettered exercise of his own will,” Malloy v. Hogan, 378 U. S. 1, 8, and that “a prisoner is not ‘to be made the deluded instrument of his own conviction,’ ” Culomhe v. Connecticut, 367 U. S. 568, 581 (Frankfurter, J., announcing the Court’s judgment and an opinion). Though often repeated, such principles are rarely observed in full measure. Even the word “voluntary” may be deemed some*510what misleading, especially when one considers many of the confessions that have been brought under its umbrella. See, e. g., supra, n. 5. The tendency to overstate may be laid in part to the flagrant facts often before the Court; but in any event one must recognize how it has tempered attitudes and lent some color of authority to the approach now taken by the Court.
I turn now to the Court’s asserted reliance on the Fifth Amendment, an approach which I frankly regard as a trompb Voeil. The Court’s opinion in my view reveals no adequate basis for extending the Fifth Amendment’s privilege against self-incrimination to the police station. Far more important, it fails to show that the Court’s new rules are well supported, let alone compelled, by Fifth Amendment precedents. Instead, the new rules actually derive from quotation and analogy drawn from precedents under the Sixth Amendment, which should properly have no bearing on police interrogation.
The Court’s opening contention, that the Fifth Amendment governs police station confessions, is perhaps not an impermissible extension of the law but it has little to commend itself in the present circumstances. Historically, the privilege against self-incrimination did not bear at all on the use of extra-legal confessions, for which distinct standards evolved; indeed, “the history of the two principles is wide apart, differing by one hundred years in origin, and derived through separate lines of precedents . . . .” 8 Wigmore, Evidence § 2266, at 401 (McNaughton rev. 1961). Practice under the two doctrines has also differed in a number of important respects.6 *511Even those who would readily enlarge the privilege must concede some linguistic difficulties since the Fifth Amendment in terms proscribes only compelling any person “in any criminal case to be a witness against himself.” Cf. Kamisar, Equal Justice in the Gatehouses and Mansions of American Criminal Procedure, in Criminal Justice in Our Time 1, 25-26 (1965).
Though weighty, I do not say these points and similar ones are conclusive, for, as the Court reiterates, the privilege embodies basic principles always capable of expansion.7 Certainly the privilege does represent a protective concern for the accused and an emphasis upon accusatorial rather than inquisitorial values in law enforcement, although this is similarly true of other limitations such as the grand jury requirement and the reasonable doubt standard. Accusatorial values, however, have openly been absorbed into the due process standard governing confessions; this indeed is why at present “the kinship of the two rules [governing confessions and self-incrimination] is too apparent for denial.” McCormick, Evidence 155 (1954). Since extension of the general principle has already occurred, to insist that the privilege applies as such serves only to carry over inapposite historical details and engaging rhetoric and to obscure the policy choices to be made in regulating confessions.
Having decided that the Fifth Amendment privilege does apply in the police station, the Court reveals that the privilege imposes more exacting restrictions than does the Fourteenth Amendment’s voluntariness test.8 *512It then emerges from a discussion of Escobedo that the Fifth Amendment requires for an admissible confession that it be given by one distinctly aware of his right not to speak and shielded from “the compelling atmosphere” of interrogation. See ante, pp. 465-466. From these key premises, the Court finally develops the safeguards of warning, counsel, and so forth. I do not believe these premises are sustained by precedents under the Fifth Amendment.9
The more important premise is that pressure on the suspect must be eliminated though it be only the subtle influence of the atmosphere and surroundings. The Fifth Amendment, however, has never been thought to forbid all pressure to incriminate one’s self in the situations covered by it. On the contrary, it has been held that failure to incriminate one’s self can result in denial of removal of one’s case from state to federal court, Maryland v. Soper, 270 U. S. 9; in refusal of a military commission, Orloff v. Willoughby, 345 U. S. 83; in denial of a discharge in bankruptcy, Kaufman v. Hurwitz, 176 F. 2d 210; and in numerous other adverse consequences. See 8 Wigmore, Evidence § 2272, at 441-444, n. 18 (McNaughton rev. 1961); Maguire, Evidence of Guilt § 2.062 (1959). This is not to say that short of jail or torture any sanction is permissible in any case; policy and history alike may impose sharp limits. See, e. g., *513 Griffin v. California, 380 U. S. 609. However, the Court’s unspoken assumption that any pressure violates the privilege is not supported by the precedents and it has failed to show why the Fifth Amendment prohibits that relatively mild pressure the Due' Process Clause permits.
The Court appears similarly wrong in thinking that precise knowledge of one’s rights is a settled prerequisite under the Fifth Amendment to the loss of its protections. A number of lower federal court cases have held that grand jury witnesses need not always be warned of their privilege, e. g., United States v. Scully, 225 F. 2d 113, 116, and Wigmore states this to be the better rule for trial witnesses. See 8 Wigmore, Evidence § 2269 (McNaughton rev. 1961). Cf. Henry v. Mississippi, 379 U. S. 443, 451-452. (waiver of constitutional rights by counsel despite defendant’s ignorance held allowable). No Fifth Amendment precedent is cited for the Court’s contrary view. There might of course be reasons apart from Fifth Amendment precedent for requiring warning or any other safeguard on questioning but that is a different matter entirely. See infra, pp. 516-517.
A closing word must be said about the Assistance of Counsel Clause of the Sixth Amendment, which is never expressly relied on by the Court but whose judicial precedents turn out to be linchpins of the confession rules announced today. To support its requirement of a knowing and intelligent waiver, the Court cites Johnson v. Zerbst, 304 U. S. 458, ante, p. 475; appointment of counsel for the indigent suspect is tied to Gideon v. Wainwright, 372 U. S. 335, and Douglas v. California, 372 U. S. 353, ante, p. 473; the silent-record doctrine is borrowed from Carnley v. Cochran, 369 U. S. 506, ante, p. 475, as is the right to an express offer of counsel, ante, p. 471. All these cases imparting glosses to the Sixth Amendment concerned counsel at trial or on appeal. While the Court finds no pertinent difference between judicial proceedings and police interrogation, I believe *514the differences are so vast as to disqualify wholly the Sixth Amendment precedents as suitable analogies in the present cases.10
The only attempt in this Court to carry the right to counsel into the station house occurred in Escobedo, the Court repeating several times that that stage was no less “critical” than trial itself. See 378 U. S., 485-488. This is hardly persuasive when we consider that a grand jury inquiry, the filing of a certiorari petition, and certainly the purchase of narcotics by an undercover agent from a prospective defendant may all be equally “critical” yet provision of counsel and advice on that score have never been thought compelled by the Constitution in such cases. The sound reason why this right is so freely extended for a criminal trial is the severe injustice risked by confronting an untrained defendant with a range of technical points of law, evidence, and tactics familiar to the prosecutor but not to-himself. This danger shrinks markedly in the police station where indeed the lawyer in fulfilling his professional responsibilities of necessity may become an obstacle to truthfinding. See infra, n. 12. The Court’s summary citation of the Sixth Amendment cases here seems to me best described as “the domino method of constitutional adjudication . . . wherein every explanatory statement in a previous opinion is made the basis for extension to a wholly different situation.” Friendly, supra, n. 10, at 950.
III. Policy Considerations.
Examined as an expression of public policy, the Court’s-new regime proves so dubious that there can.be no due *515compensation for its weakness in constitutional law. The foregoing discussion has shown, I think, how mistaken is the Court in implying that the Constitution has struck the balance in favor of the approach the Court takes. Ante, p. 479. Rather, precedent reveals that the Fourteenth Amendment in practice has been construed to strike a different balance, that the Fifth Amendment gives the Court little solid support in this context, and that the Sixth Amendment should have no bearing at all. Legal history has been stretched before to satisfy deep needs of society. In this instance, however, the Court has not and cannot make the powerful showing that its new rules are plainly desirable in the context of our society, something which is surely demanded before those rules are engrafted onto the Constitution and imposed on every State and county in the land.
Without at all subscribing to the generally black picture of police conduct painted by the Court, I think it must be frankly recognized at the outset that police questioning allowable under due process precedents may inherently entail some pressure on the suspect and may seek, advantage in his ignorance or weaknesses. The atmosphere' and questioning techniques, proper and fair though they be, can in themselves exert a tug on the suspect to confess, and in this light “[t]o speak of any confessions of crime made after arrest as being ‘voluntary’ or ‘uncoerced’ is somewhat inaccurate, although traditional. A confession is wholly and incontestably voluntary only if a guilty person gives himself up to the law and becomes his own accuser.” Ashcraft v. Tennessee, 322 TJ. S. 143, 161 (Jackson, J., dissenting). Until today, the role of the Constitution has been only to sift out undue pressure, not to assure spontaneous confessions.11
*516The Court’s new rules aim to offset these minor pressures and disadvantages intrinsic to any kind of police interrogation. The rules do not serve due process interests in preventing blatant coercion since, as I noted earlier, they do nothing to contain the policeman who is prepared to lie from the start. The rules work for reliability in confessions almost only in the Pickwickian sense that they can prevent some from being given at all.12 In short, the benefit of this new regime is simply to lessen or wipe out the inherent compulsion and inequalities to which the Court devotes some nine pages of description. Ante, pp. 448-456.
What the Court largely ignores is that its rules impair, if they will not eventually serve wholly to frustrate, an instrument of law enforcement that has long and quite reasonably been thought worth the price paid for it.13 There can be little doubt that the Court’s new code would markedly decrease the number of confessions. To warn the suspect that he may remain silent and remind him that his confession may be used in court are minor obstructions. To require also an express waiver by the suspect and an end to questioning whenever he demurs *517must heavily handicap questioning. And to suggest or provide counsel for the suspect simply invites the end of the interrogation. See, supra, n. 12.
How much harm this decision will inflict on law enforcement cannot fairly be predicted with accuracy. Evidence on the role of confessions is notoriously incomplete, see Developments, supra, n. 2, at 941-944, and little is added by the Court’s reference to the FBI experience and the resources believed wasted in interrogation. See infra, n. 19, and text. We do know that some crimes cannot be solved without confessions, that ample expert testimony attests to their importance in crime control,14 and that the Court is taking a real risk with society’s welfare in imposing its new regime on the country. The social costs of crime are too great to call the new rules anything but a hazardous experimentation.
While passing over the costs and risks of its experiment, the Court portrays the evils of normal police questioning in terms which I think are exaggerated. Albeit stringently confined by the due process standards interrogation is no doubt often inconvenient and unpleasant for the suspect. However, it is no less so for a man to be arrested and jailed, to have his house searched, or to stand trial in court, yet all this may properly happen to the most innocent given probable cause, a warrant, or an indictment. Society has always paid a stiff price for law and order, and peaceful interrogation is not one of the dark moments of the law.
This brief statement of the competing considerations seems to me ample proof that the Court’s preference is highly debatable at best and therefore not to be read into *518the Constitution. However, it may make the analysis more graphic to consider the actual facts of one of the four cases reversed by the Court. Miranda v. Arizona serves best, being neither the hardest nor easiest of the four under the Court’s standards.15
On March 3, 1963, an 18-year-old girl was kidnapped and forcibly raped near Phoenix, Arizona. Ten days later, on the morning of March 13, petitioner Miranda was arrested and taken to the police station. At this time Miranda was 23 years old, indigent, and educated to the extent of completing half the ninth grade. He had “an emotional illness” of the schizophrenic type, according to the doctor who eventually examined him; the doctor’s report also stated that Miranda was “alert and oriented as to time, place, and person,” intelligent within normal limits, competent to stand trial, and sane within the legal definition. At the police station, the victim picked Miranda out of a lineup, and two officers then took him into a separate room to interrogate him, starting about 11:30 a. m. Though at first denying his guilt, within a short time Miranda gave a detailed oral confession and then wrote out in his own hand and signed a brief statement admitting and describing the crime. All this was accomplished in two hours or less without any force, threats or promises and — I will assume this though the record is uncertain, ante, 491-492 and nn. 66-67 — without any effective warnings at all.
Miranda’s oral and written confessions are now held inadmissible under the Court’s new rules. One is entitled to feel astonished that the Constitution can be read to produce this result. These confessions were ob*519tained during brief, daytime questioning conducted by two officers and unmarked by any of the traditional in-dicia of coercion. They assured a conviction for a brutal and unsettling crime, for which the police had and quite possibly could obtain little evidence other than the victim’s identifications, evidence which is frequently unreliable. There was, in sum, a legitimate purpose, no perceptible unfairness, and certainly little risk of injustice in the interrogation. Yet the resulting confessions, and the responsible course of police practice they represent, are to be sacrificed to the Court’s own finespun conception of fairness which I seriously doubt is shared by many thinking citizens in this country.16
The tenor of judicial opinion also falls well short of supporting the Court’s new approach. Although Esco-bedo has widely been interpreted as an open invitation to lower courts to rewrite the law of confessions, a significant heavy majority of the state and federal decisions in point have sought quite narrow interpretations.17 Of *520the courts that have accepted the invitation, it is hard to know how many have felt compelled by their best guess as to this Court’s likely construction; but none of the state decisions saw fit to rely on the state privilege against self-incrimination, and no decision at all has gone as far as this Court goes today.18
It is also instructive to compare the attitude in this case of those responsible for law enforcement with the official views that existed when the Court undertook three major revisions of prosecutorial practice prior to this case, Johnson v. Zerbst, 304 U. S. 458, Mapp v. Ohio, 367 U. S. 643, and Gideon v. Wainwright, 372 U. S. 335. In Johnson, which established that appointed counsel must be offered the indigent in federal criminal trials, the Federal Government all but conceded the basic issue, which had in fact been recently fixed as Department of Justice policy. See Beaney, Right to Counsel 29-30, 36-42 (1955). In Mapp, which imposed the exclusionary rule on the States for Fourth Amendment violations, more than half of the States had themselves already adopted some such rule. See 367 U. S., at 651. In Gideon, which extended Johnson v. Zerbst to the States, an amicus brief was filed by 22 States and Commonwealths urging that course; only two States besides that of the respondent came forward to protest. See 372 U. S., at 345. By contrast, in this case new restrictions on police *521questioning have been opposed by the United States and in an amicus brief signed by 27 States and Commonwealths, not including the three other States which are parties. No State in the country has urged this Court to impose the newly announced rules, nor has any State chosen to go nearly so far on its own.
The Court in closing its general discussion invokes the practice in federal and foreign jurisdictions as lending weight to its new curbs on confessions for all the States. A brief résumé will suffice to show that none of these jurisdictions has struck so one-sided a balance as the Court does today. Heaviest reliance is placed on the FBI practice. Differing circumstances may make this comparison quite untrustworthy,19 but in any event the FBI falls sensibly short of the Court’s formalistic rules. For example, there is no indication that FBI agents must obtain an affirmative “waiver” before they pursue their questioning. Nor is it clear that one invoking his right to silence may not be prevailed upon to change his mind. And the warning as to appointed counsel apparently indicates only that one will be ¿ssigned by the judge when the suspect appears before him; the thrust of the Court’s rules is to induce the suspect to obtain appointed counsel before continuing the interview. See ante, pp. 484-486. Apparently American military practice, briefly mentioned by the Court, has these same limits and is still less favorable to the suspect than the FBI warning, making no mention of appointed counsel. Developments, supra, n. 2, at 1084^1089.
The law of the foreign countries described by the Court also reflects a more moderate conception of the rights of *522the accused as against those of society when other data are considered. Concededly, the English experience is most relevant. In that country, a caution as to silence but not counsel has long been mandated by the “Judges’ Rules,” which also place other somewhat imprecise limits on police cross-examination of suspects. However, in the court’s discretion confessions can be and apparently quite frequently are admitted in evidence despite disregard of the Judges’ Rules, so long as they are found voluntary under the common-law test. Moreover, the check that exists on the use of pretrial statements is counterbalanced by the evident admissibility of fruits of an illegal confession and by the judge’s often-used authority to comment adversely on the defendant’s failure to testify.20
India, Ceylon and Scotland are the other examples chosen by the Court. In India and Ceylon the general ban on police-adduced confessions cited by the Court is subject to a major exception: if evidence is uncovered by police questioning, it is fully admissible at trial along with the confession itself, so far as it relates to the evidence and is not blatantly coerced. See Developments, supra, n. 2, at 1106-1110; Reg. v. Ramasamy [1965] A. C. 1 (P. C.). Scotland’s limits on interrogation do measure up to the Court’s; however, restrained comment at trial on the defendant’s failure to take the stand is allowed the judge, and in many other respects Scotch law redresses the prosecutor’s disadvantage in ways not permitted in this country.21 The Court ends its survey by imputing *523added strength to our privilege against self-incrimination since, by contrast to other countries, it is embodied in a written Constitution. Considering the liberties the Court has today taken with constitutional history and precedent, few will find this emphasis persuasive.
In closing this necessarily truncated discussion of policy considerations attending the new confession rules, some reference must be made to their ironic untimeliness. There is now in progress in this country a massive reexamination of criminal law enforcement procedures on a scale never before witnessed. Participants in this undertaking include a Special Committee of the American Bar Association, under the chairmanship of Chief Judge Lumbard of the Court of Appeals for the Second Circuit; a distinguished study group of the American Law Institute, headed by Professors Vorenberg and Bator of the Harvard Law School; and the President’s Commission on Law Enforcement and Administration of Justice, under the leadership of the Attorney General of the United States.22 Studies are also being conducted by the District of Columbia Crime Commission, the Georgetown Law Center, and by others equipped to do practical research.23 There are also signs that legislatures in some of the States may be preparing to re-examine the problem before us.24
*524It is no secret that concern has been expressed lest long-range and lasting reforms be frustrated by this Court’s too rapid departure from existing constitutional standards. Despite the Court’s disclaimer, the practical effect of the decision made today must inevitably be to handicap seriously sound efforts at reform, not least by removing options necessary to a just compromise of competing interests. Of course legislative reform is rarely speedy or unanimous, though this Court has been more patient in the past.25 But the legislative reforms when they come would have the vast advantage of empirical data and comprehensive study, they would allow experimentation and use of solutions not open to the courts, and they would restore the initiative in criminal law reform to those forums where it truly belongs.
IV. Conclusions.
All four of the cases involved here present express claims that confessions were inadmissible, not because of coercion in the traditional due process sense, but solely because of lack of counsel or lack of warnings concerning counsel and silence. For the reasons stated in this opinion, I would adhere to the due process test and reject the new requirements inaugurated by the Court. On this premise my disposition of each of these cases can be stated briefly.
In two of the three cases coming from state courts, Miranda v. Arizona (No. 759) and Vignera v. New York (No. 760), the confessions were held admissible and no other errors worth comment are alleged by petitioners. *525I would affirm in these two cases. The other state case is California v. Stewart (No. 584), where the state supreme court held the confession inadmissible and reversed the conviction. In that case I would dismiss the writ of certiorari on the ground that no final judgment is before us, 28 U. S. C. § 1257 (1964 ed.); putting aside the new trial open to the State in any event, the confession itself has not even been finally excluded since the California Supreme Court left the State free to show proof of a waiver. If the merits of the decision in Stewart be reached, then I believe it should be reversed and the case remanded so the state supreme court may pass on the other claims available to respondent.
In the federal case, Westover v. United States (No. 761), a number of issues are raised by petitioner apart from the one already dealt with in this dissent. None of these other claims appears to me tenable, nor in this context to warrant extended discussion. It is urged that the confession was also inadmissible because not voluntary even measured by due process standards and because federal-state cooperation brought the McNabb-Mallory rule into play under Anderson v. United States, 318 U. S. 350. However, the facts alleged fall well short of coercion in my view, and I believe the involvement of federal agents in petitioner’s arrest and detention by the State too slight to invoke Anderson. I agree with the Government that the admission of the evidence now protested by petitioner was at most harmless error, and two final contentions — one involving weight of the evidence and another improper prosecutor comment — seem to me without merit. I would thérefore affirm Westover’s conviction.
In conclusion: Nothing in the letter or the spirit of the Constitution or in the precedents squares with the heavy-handed and one-sided action that is so precipi*526tously taken by the Court in the name of fulfilling its constitutional responsibilities. The foray which the Court makes today brings to mind the wise and farsighted words of Mr. Justice Jackson in Douglas v. Jeannette, 319 U. S. 157, 181 (separate opinion): “This Court is forever adding new stories to the temples of constitutional law, and the temples have a way of collapsing when one story too many is added.”
with whom Mr. Justice Harlan and Mr. Justice Stewart join,
dissenting.
I.
The proposition that the privilege against self-incrimination forbids in-custody interrogation without the warnings specified in the majority opinion and without a clear waiver of counsel has no significant support in the history of the privilege or in the language of the Fifth Amendment. As for the English authorities and the common-law history, the privilege, firmly established in the second half of the seventeenth century, was never applied except to prohibit compelled judicial interrogations. The rule excluding coerced confessions matured about 100 years later, “[b]ut there is nothing in the reports to suggest that the theory has its roots in the privilege against self-incrimination. And so far as the cases reveal, the privilege, as such, seems to have been given effect only in judicial proceedings, including the preliminary examinations by authorized magistrates.” Morgan, The Privilege Against Self-Incrimination, 34 Minn. L. Rev. 1, 18 (1949).
Our own constitutional provision provides that no person “shall be compelled in any criminal case to be a witness against himself.” These words, when “[cjonsid-ered in the light to be shed by grammar and the dictionary . . . appear to signify simply that nobody shall be *527compelled to give oral testimony against himself in a criminal proceeding under way in which he is defendant.” Corwin, The Supreme Court’s Construction of the Self-Incrimination Clause, 29 Mich. L. Rev. 1, 2. And there is very little in the surrounding circumstances of the adoption of the Fifth Amendment or in the provisions of the then existing state constitutions or in state practice which would give the constitutional provision any broader meaning. Mayers, The Federal Witness’ Privilege Against Self-Incrimination: Constitutional or Common-Law? 4 American Journal of Legal History 107 (1960). Such a construction, however, was considerably narrower than the privilege at common law, and when eventually faced with the issues, the Court extended the constitutional privilege to the compulsory production of books and papers, to the ordinary witness before the grand jury and to witnesses generally. Boyd v. United States, 116 U. S. 616, and Counselman v. Hitchcock, 142 U. S. 547. Both rules had solid support in common-law history, if not in the history of our own constitutional provision.
A few years later the Fifth Amendment privilege was similarly extended to encompass the then well-established rule against coerced confessions: “In criminal trials, in the courts of the United States, wherever a question arises whether a confession is incompetent because not voluntary, the issue is controlled by that portion of the Fifth Amendment to the Constitution of the United States, commanding that no person ‘shall be compelled in any criminal case to be a witness against himself.’ ” Bram v. United States, 168 U. S. 532, 542. Although this view has found approval in other cases, Burdeau v. McDowell, 256 U. S. 465, 475; Powers v. United States, 223 U. S. 303, 313; Shotwell v. United States, 371 U. S. 341, 347, it has also been questioned, see Brown v. Mississippi, 297 U. S. 278, 285; United States v. Carignan, *528342 U. S. 36, 41; Stein v. New York, 346 U. S. 156, 191, n. 35, and finds scant support in either the English or American authorities, see generally Regina v. Scott, Dears. & Bell 47; 3 Wigmore, Evidence § 823 (3d ed. 1940), at 249 (“a confession is not rejected because of any connection with the privilege against self-crimination”), and 250, n. 5 (particularly criticizing Bram); 8 Wigmore, Evidence § 2266, at 400-40.1 (McNaughton rev. 1961). Whatever the source of the rule excluding coerced confessions, it is clear that prior to the application of the privilege itself to state courts, Malloy v. Hogan, 378 U. S. 1, the admissibility of a confession in a state criminal prosecution was tested by the same standards as were applied in federal prosecutions. Id., at 6-7, 10.
Bram, however, itself rejected the proposition which the Court now espouses. The question in Bram was whether a confession, obtained during custodial interrogation, had been compelled, and if such interrogation was to be deemed inherently vulnerable the Court’s inquiry could have ended there. After examining the English and American authorities, however, the Court declared that:
“In this court also it has been settled that the mere fact that the confession is made to a police officer, while the accused was under arrest in or out of .prison, or was drawn out by his questions, does not necessarily render the confession involuntary, but, as one of the circumstances, such imprisonment or interrogation may be taken into account in determining whether or not the statements of the prisoner were voluntary.” 168 U. S., at 558.
In this respect the Court was wholly consistent with prior and subsequent pronouncements in this Court.
Thus prior to Bram the Court, in Hopt v. Utah, 110 U. S. 574, 583-587, had upheld the admissibility of a *529confession made to police officers following arrest, the record being silent concerning what conversation had occurred between the officers and the defendant in the short period preceding the confession. Relying on Hopt, the Court ruled squarely on the issue in Sparf and Hansen v. United States, 156 U. S. 51, 55:
“Counsel for the accused insist that there cannot be a voluntary statement, a free open confession, while a defendant is confined and in irons under an accusation of having committed a capital offence. We have not been referred to any authority in support of that position. It is true that the fact of a prisoner being in custody at the time he makes a confession is a circumstance not to be overlooked, because it bears upon the inquiry whether the confession was voluntarily made or was extorted by threats or violence or made under the influence of fear. But confinement or imprisonment is not in itself sufficient to justify the exclusion of a confession, if it appears to have been voluntary, and was not obtained by putting the prisoner in fear or by promises. Wharton’s Cr. Ev. 9th ed. §§ 661, 663, and authorities cited.”
Accord, Pierce v. United States, 160 U. S. 355, 357.
And in Wilson v. United States, 162 U. S. 613, 623, the Court had considered the significance of custodial interrogation without any antecedent warnings regarding the right to remain silent or the right to counsel. There the defendant had answered questions posed by a Commissioner, who had failed to advise him of his rights, and his answers were held admissible over his claim of involuntariness. “The fact that [a defendant] is in custody and manacled does not necessarily render his statement involuntary, nor is that necessarily the effect of popular excitement shortly preceding. . . . And it is laid down *530that it is not essential to the admissibility of a confession that it should appear that the person was warned that what he said would be used against him, but on the contrary, if the confession was voluntary, it is sufficient though it appear that he was not so warned.”
Since Bram, the admissibility of statements made during custodial interrogation has been frequently reiterated. Powers v. United States, 223 U. S. 303, cited Wilson approvingly and held admissible as voluntary statements the accused’s testimony at a preliminary hearing even though he was not warned that what he said might be used against him. Without any discussion of the presence or absence of warnings, presumably because such discussion was deemed unnecessary, numerous other cases have declared that “[t]he mere fact that a confession was made while in the custody of the police does not render it inadmissible,” McNabb v. United States, 318 U. S. 332, 346; accord, United States v. Mitchell, 322 U. S. 65, despite its having been elicited by police examination, Wan v. United States, 266 U. S. 1, 14; United States v. Carignan, 342 U. S. 36, 39. Likewise, in Crooker v. California, 357 U. S. 433, 437, the Court said that “the bare fact of police ‘detention and police examination in private of one in official state custody’ does not render involuntary a confession by the one so detained.” And finally, in Cicenia v. Lagay, 357 U. S. 504, a confession obtained by police interrogation after arrest was held voluntary even though the authorities refused to permit the defendant to consult with his attorney. See generally Culombe v. Connecticut, 367 U. S. 568, 587-602 (opinion of Frankfurter, J.); 3 Wigmore, Evidence § 851, at 313 (3d ed. 1940); see also Joy, Admissibility of Confessions 38, 46 (1842).
Only a tiny minority of our judges who have dealt with the question, including today’s majority, have considered in-custody interrogation, without more, to be a violation of the Fifth Amendment. And this Court, as *531every member knows, has left standing literally thousands of criminal convictions that rested at least in part on confessions taken in the course of interrogation by the police after arrest.
II.
That the Court’s holding today is neither compelled nor even strongly suggested by the language of the Fifth Amendment, is at odds with American and English legal history, and involves a departure from a long line of precedent does not prove either that the Court has exceeded its powers or that the Court is wrong or unwise in its present reinterpretation of the Fifth Amendment. It does, however, underscore the obvious — that the Court has not discovered or found the law in making today’s decision, nor has it derived it from some irrefutable sources; what it has done is to make new law and new public policy in much the same way that it has in the course of interpreting other great clauses of the Constitution.1 This is what the Court historically has done. Indeed, it is what it must do and will continue to do until and unless there is some fundamental change in the constitutional distribution of governmental powers.
But if the Court is here and now to announce new and fundamental policy to govern certain aspects of our affairs, it is wholly legitimate to examine the mode of this or any other constitutional decision in this Court and to inquire into the advisability of its end product in terms of the long-range interest of the country. At the very least the Court’s text and reasoning should withstand analysis and be a fair exposition of the constitutional provision which its opinion interprets. De*532cisions like these cannot rest alone on syllogism, metaphysics or some ill-defined notions of natural justice, although each will perhaps play its part. In proceeding to such constructions as it now announces, the Court should also duly consider all the factors and interests bearing upon the cases, at least insofar as the relevant materials are available; and if the necessary considerations are not treated in the record or obtainable from some other reliable source, the Court should not proceed to formulate fundamental policies based on speculation alone.
III.
First, we may inquire what are the textual and factual bases of this new fundamental rule. To reach the result announced on the grounds it does, the Court must stay within the confines of the Fifth Amendment, which forbids self-incrimination only if compelled. Hence the core of the Court’s opinion is that because of the “compulsion inherent in custodial surroundings, no statement obtained from [a] defendant [in custody] can truly be the product of his free choice,” ante, at 458, absent the use of adequate protective devices as described by the Court. However, the Court does not point to any sudden inrush of new knowledge requiring the rejection of 70 years’ experience. Nor does it assert that its novel conclusion reflects a changing consensus among state courts, see Mapp v. Ohio, 367 U. S. 643, or that a succession of cases had steadily eroded the old rule and proved it unworkable, see Gideon v. Wainwright, 372 U. S. 335. Rather than asserting new knowledge, the Court concedes that it cannot truly know what occurs during custodial questioning, because of the innate secrecy of such proceedings. It extrapolates a picture of what it conceives to be the norm from police investigatorial manuals, published in 1959 and 1962 or earlier, without any attempt to allow for adjustments in police practices that may *533have occurred in the wake of more recent decisions of state appellate tribunals or this Court. But even if the relentless application of the described procedures could lead to involuntary confessions, it most assuredly does not follow that each and every case will disclose this kind of interrogation or this kind of consequence.2 Insofar as appears from the Court’s opinion, it has not examined a single transcript of any police interrogation, let alone the interrogation that took place in any one of these cases which it decides today. Judged by any of the standards for empirical investigation utilized in the social sciences the factual basis for the Court’s premise is patently inadequate.
Although in the Court’s view in-custody interrogation is inherently coercive, the Court says that the spontaneous product of the coercion of arrest and detention is still to be deemed voluntary. An accused, arrested on probable cause, may blurt out a confession which will be admissible despite the fact that he is alone and in custody, without any showing that he had any notion of his right to remain silent or of the consequences of his admission. Yet, under the Court’s rule, if the police ask him a single question such as “Do you have anything to say?” or “Did you kill your wife?” his response, if there is one, has somehow been compelled, even if the accused has *534been clearly warned of his right to remain silent. Common sense informs- us to the contrary. While one may say that the response was “involuntary” in the sense the question provoked or was the occasion for the response and thus the defendant was induced to speak out when he might have remained silent if not arrested and not questioned, it is patently unsound to say the response is compelled.
Today’s result would not follow even if it were agreed that to some extent custodial interrogation is inherently coercive. See Ashcraft v. Tennessee, 322 U. S. 143, 161 (Jackson, J., dissenting). The test has been whether the totality of circumstances deprived the defendant of a “free choice to admit, to deny, or to refuse to answer,” Lisenba v. California, 314 U. S. 219, 241, and whether physical or psychological coercion was of such a degree that “the defendant’s will was overborne at the time he confessed,” Haynes v. Washington, 373 U. S. 503, 513; Lynumn v. Illinois, 372 U. S. 528, 534. The duration and nature of incommunicado custody, the presence or absence of advice concerning the defendant’s constitutional rights, and the granting or refusal of requests to communicate with lawyers, relatives or friends have all been rightly regarded as important data bearing on the basic inquiry. See, e. g., Ashcraft v. Tennessee, 322 U. S. 143; Haynes v. Washington, 373 U. S. 503.3 *535But it has never been suggested, until today, that such questioning was so coercive and accused persons so lacking in hardihood that the very first response to the very first question following the commencement of custody must be conclusively presumed to be the product of an overborne will.
If the rule announced today were truly based on a conclusion that all confessions resulting from custodial interrogation are coerced, then it would simply have no rational foundation. Compare Tot v. United States, 319 U. S. 463, 466; United States v. Romano, 382 U. S. 136. A fortiori that would be true of the extension of the rule to exculpatory statements, which the Court effects after a brief discussion of why, in the Court’s view, they must be deemed incriminatory but without any discussion of why they must be deemed coerced. See Wilson v. United States, 162 U. S. 613, 624. Even if one were to postulate that the Court’s concern is not that all confessions induced by police interrogation are coerced but rather that some such confessions are coerced and present judicial procedures are believed to be inadequate to identify the confessions that are coerced and those that are not, it would still not be essential to impose the rule that the Court has now fashioned. Transcripts or observers could be required, specific time limits, tailored to fit the cause, could be imposed, or other devices could be utilized to reduce the chances that otherwise indiscernible coercion will produce an inadmissible confession.
On the other hand, even if one assumed that there was an adequate factual basis for the conclusion that all confessions obtained during in-custody interrogation are the product of compulsion, the rule propounded by *536the Court would still be irrational, for, apparently, it is only if the accused is also warned of his right to counsel and waives both that right and the right against self-incrimination that the inherent compulsiveness of interrogation disappears. But if the defendant may not answer without a warning a question such as “Where were you last night?” without having his answer be a compelled one, how can the Court ever accept his negative answer to the question of whether he wants to consult his retained counsel or counsel whom the court will appoint? And why if counsel is present and the accused nevertheless confesses, or counsel tells the accused to tell the truth, and that is what the accused does, is the situation any less coercive insofar as the accused is concerned? The Court apparently realizes its dilemma of foreclosing questioning without the necessary warnings but at the same time permitting the accused, sitting in the same chair in front of the same policemen, to waive his right to consult an attorney. It expects, however, that the accused will not often waive the right; and if it is claimed that he has, the State faces a severe, if not impossible burden of proof.
All of this makes very little sense in terms of the compulsion which the Fifth Amendment proscribes. That amendment deals with compelling the accused himself. It is his free will that is involved. Confessions and incriminating admissions, as such, are not forbidden evidence; only those which are compelled are banned. I doubt that the Court observes these distinctions today. By considering any answers to any interrogation to be compelled regardless of the content and course of examination and by escalating the requirements to prove waiver, the Court not only prevents the use of compelled confessions but for all practical purposes forbids interrogation except in the presence of counsel. That is, instead of confining itself to protection of the right against com*537pelled self-incrimination the Court has created a limited Fifth Amendment right to counsel — or, as the Court expresses it, a “need for counsel to protect the Fifth Amendment privilege . . . .” Ante, at 470. The focus then is not on the will of the accused but on the will of counsel and how much influence he can have on the accused. Obviously there is no warrant in the Fifth Amendment for thus installing counsel as the arbiter of the privilege.
In sum, for all the Court’s expounding on the menacing atmosphere of police interrogation procedures, it has failed to supply any foundation for the conclusions it draws or the measures it adopts.
IV.
Criticism of the Court’s opinion, however, cannot stop with a demonstration that the factual and textual bases for the rule it propounds are, at best, less than compelling. Equally relevant is an assessment of the rule’s consequences measured against community values. The Court’s duty to assess the consequences of its action is not satisfied by the utterance of the truth that a value of our system of criminal justice is “to respect the inviolability of the human personality” and to require government to produce the evidence against the accused by its own independent labors. Ante, at 460. More than the human dignity of the accused is involved; the human personality of others in the society must also be preserved. Thus the values reflected by the privilege are not the sole desideratum; society’s interest in the general security is of equal weight.
The obvious underpinning of the Court’s decision is a deep-seated distrust of all confessions. As the Court declares that the accused may not be interrogated without counsel present, absent a waiver of the right to counsel, and as the Court all but admonishes the lawyer to *538advise the accused to remain silent, the result adds up to a judicial judgment that evidence from the accused should not be used against him in any way, whether compelled or not. This is the not so subtle overtone of the opinion — that it is inherently wrong for the police to gather evidence from the accused himself. And this is precisely the nub of this dissent. I see nothing wrong or immoral, and certainly nothing unconstitutional, in the police’s asking a suspect whom they have reasonable cause to arrest whether or not he killed his wife or in confronting him with the evidence on which the arrest was based, at least where he has been plainly advised that he may remain completely silent, see Escobedo v. Illinois, 378 U. S. 478, 499 (dissenting opinion). Until today, “the admissions or confessions of the prisoner, when voluntarily and freely made, have always ranked high in the scale of incriminating evidence.” Brown v. Walker, 161 U. S. 591, 596; see also Hopt v. Utah, 110 U. S. 574, 584-585. Particularly when corroborated, as where the police have confirmed the accused’s disclosure of the hiding place of implements or fruits of the crime, such confessions have the highest reliability and significantly contribute to the certitude with which we may believe the accused is guilty. Moreover, it is by no means certain that the process of confessing is injurious to the accused. To the contrary it may provide psychological relief and enhance the prospects for rehabilitation.
This is not to say that the value of respect for the inviolability of the accused’s individual personality should be accorded no weight or that all confessions should be indiscriminately admitted. This Court has long read the Constitution to proscribe compelled confessions, a salutary rule from which there should be no retreat. But I see no sound basis, factual or otherwise, and the Court gives none, for concluding that the present rule against the receipt of coerced confessions is inadequate for the *539task of sorting out inadmissible evidence and must be replaced by the per se rule which is now imposed. Even if the new concept can be said to have advantages of some sort over the present law, they are far outweighed by its likely undesirable impact on other very relevant and important interests.
The most basic function of any government is to provide for the security of the individual and of his property. Lanzetta v. New Jersey, 306 U. S, 451, 455. These ends of society are served by the criminal laws which for the most part are aimed at the prevention of crime. Without the reasonably effective performance of the task of preventing private violence and retaliation, it is idle to talk about human dignity and civilized values.
The modes by which the criminal laws serve the interest in general security are many. First the murderer who has taken the life of another is removed from the streets, deprived of his liberty and thereby prevented from repeating his offense. In view of the statistics on recidivism in this country4 and of the number of instances *540in which apprehension occurs only after repeated offenses, no one can sensibly claim that this aspect of the criminal law does not prevent crime or contribute significantly to the personal security of the ordinary citizen.
Secondly, the swift and sure apprehension of those who refuse to respect the personal security and dignity of their neighbor unquestionably has its impact on others who might be similarly tempted. That the criminal law is wholly or partly ineffective with a segment of the population or with many of those who have been apprehended and convicted is a very faulty basis for concluding that it is not effective with respect to the great bulk of our citizens or for thinking that without the criminal laws, *541or in the absence of their enforcement, there would be no increase in crime. Arguments of this nature are not borne out by any kind of reliable evidence that I have seen to this date.
Thirdly, the law concerns itself with those whom it has confined. The hope and aim of modern penology, fortunately, is as soon as possible to return the convict to society a better and more law-abiding man than when he left. Sometimes there is success, sometimes failure. But at least the effort is made, and it should be made to the very maximum extent of our present and future capabilities.
The rule announced today will measurably weaken the ability of the criminal law to perform these tasks. It is a deliberate calculus to prevent interrogations, to reduce the incidence of confessions and pleas of guilty and to increase the number of trials.5 Criminal trials, no *542matter how efficient the police are, are not sure bets for the prosecution, nor should they be if the evidence is not forthcoming. Under the, present law, the prosecution fails to prove its case in about 30% of the criminal cases actually tried in the federal courts. See Federal Offenders: 1964, supra, note 4, at 6 (Table 4), 59 (Table 1); Federal Offenders: 1963, supra, note 4, at 5 (Table 3); District of Columbia Offenders: 1963, supra, note 4, at 2 (Table 1). But it is something else again to remove from the ordinary criminal case all those confessions which heretofore have been held to be free and voluntary acts of the accused and to thus establish a new constitutional barrier to the ascertainment of truth by the judicial process. There is, in my view, every reason to believe that a good many criminal defendants who otherwise would have been convicted on what this Court has previously thought to be the most satisfactory kind of evidence will now, under this new version of the Fifth Amendment, either not be tried at all or will be acquitted if the State’s evidence, minus the confession, is put to the test of litigation.
I have no desire whatsoever to share the responsibility for any such impact on the present criminal process.
In some unknown number of cases the Court’s rule will return a killer, a rapist or other criminal to the streets and to the environment which produced him, to repeat his crime whenever it pleases him. As a consequence, there will not be a gain, but a loss, in human dignity. The real concern is not the unfortunate consequences of this new decision on the criminal law as an abstract, disembodied series of authoritative proscriptions, but the impact on those who rely on the public authority for protection and who without it can only engage in violent self-help with guns, knives and the help of their neighbors similarly inclined. There is, of *543course, a saving factor: the next victims are uncertain, unnamed and unrepresented in this case.
Nor can this decision do other than have a corrosive effect on the criminal law as an effective device to prevent crime. A major component in its effectiveness in this regard is its swift and sure enforcement. The easier it is to get away with rape and murder, the less the deterrent effect on those who are inclined to attempt it. This is still good common sense. If it were not, we should posthaste liquidate the whole law enforcement establishment as a useless, misguided effort to control human conduct.
And what about the accused who has confessed or would confess in response to simple, noncoercive questioning and whose guilt could not otherwise be proved? Is it so clear that release is the best thing for him in every case? Has it so unquestionably been resolved that in each and every case it would be better for him not to confess and to return to his environment with no attempt whatsoever to help him? I think not. It may well be that in many cases it will be no less than a callous disregard for his own welfare as well as for the interests of his next victim.
There is another aspect to the effect of the Court’s rule on the person whom the police have arrested on probable cause. The fact is that he may not be guilty at all and may be able to extricate himself quickly and simply if he were told the circumstances of his arrest and were asked to explain. This effort, and his release, must now await the hiring of a lawyer or his appointment by the court, consultation with counsel and then a session with the police or the prosecutor. Similarly, where probable cause exists to arrest several suspects, as where the body of the victim is discovered in a house having several residents, compare Johnson v. State, 238 Md. 140, 207 A. 2d 643 (1965), cert. denied, 382 U. S. 1013, it will often *544be true that a suspect may be cleared only through the results of interrogation of other suspects. Here too the release of the innocent may be delayed by the Court’s rule.
Much of the trouble with the Court’s new rule is that it will operate indiscriminately in all criminal cases, regardless of the severity of the crime or the circumstances involved. It applies to every defendant, whether the professional criminal or one committing a crime of momentary passion who is not part and parcel of organized crime. It will slow down the investigation and the apprehension of confederates in those cases where time is of the essence, such as kidnapping, see Brinegar v. United States, 338 U. S. 160, 183 (Jackson, J., dissenting) ; People v. Modesto, 62 Cal. 2d 436, 446, 398 P. 2d 753, 759 (1965), those involving the national security, see United States v. Drummond, 354 F. 2d 132, 147 (C. A. 2d Cir. 1965) (en banc) (espionage case), pet. for cert. pending, No. 1203, Misc., O. T. 1965; cf. Gessner v. United States, 354 F. 2d 726, 730, n. 10 (C. A. 10th Cir. 1965) (upholding, in espionage case, trial ruling that Government need not submit classified portions of interrogation transcript), and some of those involving organized crime. In the latter context the lawyer who arrives may also be the lawyer for the defendant’s colleagues and can be relied upon to insure that no breach of the organization’s security takes place even though the accused may feel that the best thing he can do is to cooperate.
At the same time, the Court’s per se approach may not be justified on the ground that it provides a “bright line” permitting the authorities to judge in advance whether interrogation may safely be pursued without jeopardizing the admissibility of any information obtained as a consequence. Nor can it be claimed that judicial time and effort, assuming that is a relevant consideration, *545will be conserved because of the ease of application of the new rule. Today’s decision leaves open such questions as whether the accused was in custody, whether his statements were spontaneous or the product of interrogation, whether the accused has effectively waived his rights, and whether nontestimonial evidence introduced at trial is the fruit of statements made during a prohibited interrogation, all of which are certain to prove productive of uncertainty during investigation and litigation during prosecution. For all these reasons, if further restrictions on police interrogation are desirable at this time, a more flexible approach makes much more sense than the Court’s constitutional straitjacket which forecloses more discriminating treatment by legislative or rule-making pronouncements.
Applying the traditional standards to the cases before the Court, I would hold these confessions voluntary. I would therefore affirm in Nos. 759, 760, and 761, and reverse in No. 584.
9.2.2 Andrew E. Taslitz, “Wrongly Accused: Is Race a Factor in Convicting the Innocent?” (2006) 9.2.2 Andrew E. Taslitz, “Wrongly Accused: Is Race a Factor in Convicting the Innocent?” (2006)
4 Ohio St. J. Crim. L. 121
Social psychologists widely agree that many of the interrogation techniques for judging suspect credibility taught to police officers under the rubric of science are anything but. Instead, they are based on facially implausible psychological assumptions not only not validated by empirical evidence but actually contradicted by empirical evidence. The resulting police officer judgments made about an interrogatee’s credibility are thus based on little more than the investigator’s subjective judgments, hunches, and a series of after-the-fact observations designed to confirm preconceptions, for example, concerning the meaning of eye movement during interrogation. Some research also suggests that the more powerless party in a situation—a black youth isolated in an interrogation room with multiple detectives clearly fitting that relatively powerless bill—is likely to adopt a style of speech perceived by observers as less credible, a phenomenon that may again feed into uninformed officers’ preconceptions.
A separate line of research shows that most people are generally notoriously bad at judging other persons’ credibility based on their demeanor. This same research shows, however, that those with law enforcement training and experience are more likely than those without it to see deception, to perceive guilt, and to have a high level of confidence in these judgments yet are no more likely to be right in fact. This is likely so, the researchers maintain, because prior experience, presumed base rates of behavior, stereotyping, and a system of rewards for gathering incriminating rather than exculpating evidence encourage this view. Police may thus readily interpret nervousness during interrogation—a natural reaction by anyone in that situation—as in fact only typical of the guilty. Stereotypes have more clout when cognitive resources are limited, such as by time or social pressure, and where a theory is held in great confidence; the latter also leads to neglecting further evidence-gathering or to heightened attention to confirmatory evidence and diminished attention to contradicting evidence.
When investigators expect suspect guilt, however, they use more investigative techniques, try harder, exert more pressure and, as a result, lead innocent suspects most of all to behave defensively. But that defensiveness makes them appear more guilty to observers. Indeed, in lab experiments pairing the most guilt-presumptive interrogators with the truly innocent, the harshest interrogation techniques result, in turn causing the greatest intensification of the presumption of guilt. Researchers maintain that these lab results likely underestimate real-world risks because detectives:
• are trained to have confidence in their judgments;
• are trained to use psychological interrogation techniques effectively;
• are motivated by career aspiration to solve cases; and
• typically pressure suspects over the course of hours, not, as in the lab, just minutes of interrogation.
The innocent may also readily waive Miranda, believing that their innocence will set them free and not realizing that what they see as exculpatory statements may be viewed by others as inculpatory. As the time for interrogation builds, and as a suspect is increasingly confronted with manufactured or biased evidence against him—two very typical interrogation techniques—the risk of falsely confessing to escape the isolation and pressure rises dramatically; this is especially true of juveniles.
Now when we add race to the mix, the picture becomes clearer. Officers start with a presumption of the guilt of a young black male based upon one-sided and limited circumstantial evidence. The kid reacts with hostility and defensiveness. These reactions, combined with his powerless speech patterns, lead police to believe he is lying. They close off alternative theories, heightening the pressure on the kid about whose guilt they are now convinced. They make real evidence sound more inculpatory than it is, they deceive him into believing there is still more inculpatory evidence against him, they appeal to his self-interest, and they hammer away at him for hours. Young, isolated, cut off from family and friends, fearful, and rightly seeing no way out, he confesses. Falsely.
Should the youth take the stand at a suppression hearing, the judge, drawing on the same racially-stigmatizing images of black youth, won’t believe him. The case goes to trial, and the jury likely sees a film just of his confession. But even if they see a video of the entire interrogation, they will see a camera focused on only the suspect, not the police, a camera angle shown in laboratory studies to enhance the perceived likelihood of guilt. Moreover, the same defensiveness and linguistic barriers that made the kid seem to be a liar to the police prod the jury toward a similar conclusion. And the same stereotypes of black criminality and duplicity again favor jurors accepting the truthfulness of the confession rather than of its retraction.
There is no reason to think that similar dynamics will have any less force at other steps in the process, and these multi-stage dynamics may be reinforcing. Thus a flawed cross-racial identification may lead to a presumption of guilt resulting in aggressive interrogation tactics that elicit a false confession. The identification of sloppy lab work further implicating the defendant is not further pursued or corrected because of the operative presumption of likely guilt. Racial code words are used by prosecutors in closing arguments to draw on images of black ill-characters. A jury skeptical of a seemingly evasive defendant convicts. No other leads or theories have been pursued. Another injustice has been done.
9.2.3 Dickerson v. United States (2000) 9.2.3 Dickerson v. United States (2000)
530 U.S. 428 (2000)
DICKERSON
v.
UNITED STATES
No. 99-5525.
United States Supreme Court.
Argued April 19, 2000.
Decided June 26, 2000.
CERTIORARI TO THE UNITED STATES COURT OF APPEALS FOR THE FOURTH CIRCUIT
[430] [430] Rehnquist, C. J., delivered the opinion of the Court, in which Stevens, O'Connor, Kennedy, Souter, Ginsburg, and Breyer, JJ., joined. Scalia, J., filed a dissenting opinion, in which Thomas, J., joined, post, p. 444.
James W. Hundley, by appointment of the Court, 528 U. S. 1072, argued the cause for petitioner. With him on the briefs were Carter G. Phillips, Jeffrey T. Green, and Kurt H. Jacobs.
Solicitor General Waxman argued the cause for the United States. With him on the briefs were Attorney General Reno, Assistant Attorney General Robinson, Deputy Solicitor General Dreeben, James A. Feldman, and Lisa S. Blatt.
Paul G. Cassell, by invitation of the Court, 528 U. S. 1045, argued the cause as amicus curiae urging affirmance. With him on the brief were Daniel J. Popeo and Paul D. Kamenar.[1]
[431] Chief Justice Rehnquist delivered the opinion of the Court.
In Miranda v. Arizona, 384 U. S. 436 (1966), we held that certain warnings must be given before a suspect's statement made during custodial interrogation could be admitted in [432] evidence. In the wake of that decision, Congress enacted 18 U. S. C. § 3501, which in essence laid down a rule that the admissibility of such statements should turn only on whether or not they were voluntarily made. We hold that Miranda, being a constitutional decision of this Court, may not be in effect overruled by an Act of Congress, and we decline to overrule Miranda ourselves. We therefore hold that Miranda and its progeny in this Court govern the admissibility of statements made during custodial interrogation in both state and federal courts.
Petitioner Dickerson was indicted for bank robbery, conspiracy to commit bank robbery, and using a firearm in the course of committing a crime of violence, all in violation of the applicable provisions of Title 18 of the United States Code. Before trial, Dickerson moved to suppress a statement he had made at a Federal Bureau of Investigation field office, on the grounds that he had not received "Miranda warnings" before being interrogated. The District Court granted his motion to suppress, and the Government took an interlocutory appeal to the United States Court of Appeals for the Fourth Circuit. That court, by a divided vote, reversed the District Court's suppression order. It agreed with the District Court's conclusion that petitioner had not received Miranda warnings before making his statement. But it went on to hold that § 3501, which in effect makes the admissibility of statements such as Dickerson's turn solely on whether they were made voluntarily, was satisfied in this case. It then concluded that our decision in Miranda was not a constitutional holding, and that, therefore, Congress could by statute have the final say on the question of admissibility. 166 F. 3d 667 (1999).
Because of the importance of the questions raised by the Court of Appeals' decision, we granted certiorari, 528 U. S. 1045 (1999), and now reverse.
We begin with a brief historical account of the law governing the admission of confessions. Prior to Miranda, we [433] evaluated the admissibility of a suspect's confession under a voluntariness test. The roots of this test developed in the common law, as the courts of England and then the United States recognized that coerced confessions are inherently untrustworthy. See, e. g., King v. Rudd, 1 Leach 115, 117-118, 122-123, 168 Eng. Rep. 160, 161, 164 (K. B. 1783) (Lord Mansfield, C. J.) (stating that the English courts excluded confessions obtained by threats and promises); King v. Warickshall, 1 Leach 262, 263-264, 168 Eng. Rep. 234, 235 (K. B. 1783) ("A free and voluntary confession is deserving of the highest credit, because it is presumed to flow from the strongest sense of guilt . . . but a confession forced from the mind by the flattery of hope, or by the torture of fear, comes in so questionable a shape . . . that no credit ought to be given to it; and therefore it is rejected"); King v. Parratt, 4 Car. & P. 570, 172 Eng. Rep. 829 (N. P. 1831); Queen v. Garner, 1 Den. 329, 169 Eng. Rep. 267 (Ct. Crim. App. 1848); Queen v. Baldry, 2 Den. 430, 169 Eng. Rep. 568 (Ct. Crim. App. 1852); Hopt v. Territory of Utah, 110 U. S. 574 (1884); Pierce v. United States, 160 U. S. 355, 357 (1896). Over time, our cases recognized two constitutional bases for the requirement that a confession be voluntary to be admitted into evidence: the Fifth Amendment right against self-incrimination and the Due Process Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment. See, e. g., Bram v. United States, 168 U. S. 532, 542 (1897) (stating that the voluntariness test "is controlled by that portion of the Fifth Amendment . . . commanding that no person `shall be compelled in any criminal case to be a witness against himself' "); Brown v. Mississippi, 297 U. S. 278 (1936) (reversing a criminal conviction under the Due Process Clause because it was based on a confession obtained by physical coercion).
While Bram was decided before Brown and its progeny, for the middle third of the 20th century our cases based the rule against admitting coerced confessions primarily, if not exclusively, on notions of due process. We applied the [434] due process voluntariness test in "some 30 different cases decided during the era that intervened between Brown and Escobedo v. Illinois, 378 U. S. 478 [(1964)]." Schneckloth v. Bustamonte, 412 U. S. 218, 223 (1973). See, e. g., Haynes v. Washington, 373 U. S. 503 (1963); Ashcraft v. Tennessee, 322 U. S. 143 (1944); Chambers v. Florida, 309 U. S. 227 (1940). Those cases refined the test into an inquiry that examines "whether a defendant's will was overborne" by the circumstances surrounding the giving of a confession. Schneckloth, 412 U. S., at 226. The due process test takes into consideration "the totality of all the surrounding circumstances—both the characteristics of the accused and the details of the interrogation." Ibid. See also Haynes, supra, at 513; Gallegos v. Colorado, 370 U. S. 49, 55 (1962); Reck v. Pate, 367 U. S. 433, 440 (1961) ("[A]ll the circumstances attendant upon the confession must be taken into account"); Malinski v. New York, 324 U. S. 401, 404 (1945) ("If all the attendant circumstances indicate that the confession was coerced or compelled, it may not be used to convict a defendant"). The determination "depend[s] upon a weighing of the circumstances of pressure against the power of resistance of the person confessing." Stein v. New York, 346 U. S. 156, 185 (1953).
We have never abandoned this due process jurisprudence, and thus continue to exclude confessions that were obtained involuntarily. But our decisions in Malloy v. Hogan, 378 U. S. 1 (1964), and Miranda changed the focus of much of the inquiry in determining the admissibility of suspects' incriminating statements. In Malloy, we held that the Fifth Amendment's Self-Incrimination Clause is incorporated in the Due Process Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment and thus applies to the States. 378 U. S., at 6-11. We decided Miranda on the heels of Malloy.
In Miranda, we noted that the advent of modern custodial police interrogation brought with it an increased concern [435] about confessions obtained by coercion.[2] 384 U. S., at 445-458. Because custodial police interrogation, by its very nature, isolates and pressures the individual, we stated that "[e]ven without employing brutality, the `third degree' or [other] specific stratagems, . . . custodial interrogation exacts a heavy toll on individual liberty and trades on the weakness of individuals." Id., at 455. We concluded that the coercion inherent in custodial interrogation blurs the line between voluntary and involuntary statements, and thus heightens the risk that an individual will not be "accorded his privilege under the Fifth Amendment . . . not to be compelled to incriminate himself." Id., at 439. Accordingly, we laid down "concrete constitutional guidelines for law enforcement agencies and courts to follow." Id., at 442. Those guidelines established that the admissibility in evidence of any statement given during custodial interrogation of a suspect would depend on whether the police provided the suspect with four warnings. These warnings (which have come to be known colloquially as "Miranda rights") are: a suspect "has the right to remain silent, that anything he says can be used against him in a court of law, that he has the right to the presence of an attorney, and that if he cannot afford an attorney one will be appointed for him prior to any questioning if he so desires." Id., at 479.
Two years after Miranda was decided, Congress enacted § 3501. That section provides, in relevant part:
"(a) In any criminal prosecution brought by the United States or by the District of Columbia, a confession . . . shall be admissible in evidence if it is voluntarily given. Before such confession is received in evidence, the trial [436] judge shall, out of the presence of the jury, determine any issue as to voluntariness. If the trial judge determines that the confession was voluntarily made it shall be admitted in evidence and the trial judge shall permit the jury to hear relevant evidence on the issue of voluntariness and shall instruct the jury to give such weight to the confession as the jury feels it deserves under all the circumstances. "(b) The trial judge in determining the issue of voluntariness shall take into consideration all the circumstances surrounding the giving of the confession, including (1) the time elapsing between arrest and arraignment of the defendant making the confession, if it was made after arrest and before arraignment, (2) whether such defendant knew the nature of the offense with which he was charged or of which he was suspected at the time of making the confession, (3) whether or not such defendant was advised or knew that he was not required to make any statement and that any such statement could be used against him, (4) whether or not such defendant had been advised prior to questioning of his right to the assistance of counsel; and (5) whether or not such defendant was without the assistance of counsel when questioned and when giving such confession. "The presence or absence of any of the abovementioned factors to be taken into consideration by the judge need not be conclusive on the issue of voluntariness of the confession." Given § 3501's express designation of voluntariness as the touchstone of admissibility, its omission of any warning requirement, and the instruction for trial courts to consider a nonexclusive list of factors relevant to the circumstances of a confession, we agree with the Court of Appeals that Congress intended by its enactment to overrule Miranda. See also Davis v. United States, 512 U. S. 452, 464 (1994) (Scalia, J.,concurring) (stating that, prior to Miranda, [437] "voluntariness vel non was the touchstone of admissibility of confessions"). Because of the obvious conflict between our decision in Miranda and § 3501, we must address whether Congress has constitutional authority to thus supersede Miranda. If Congress has such authority, § 3501's totalityof-the-circumstances approach must prevail over Miranda `s requirement of warnings; if not, that section must yield to Miranda `s more specific requirements.
The law in this area is clear. This Court has supervisory authority over the federal courts, and we may use that authority to prescribe rules of evidence and procedure that are binding in those tribunals. Carlisle v. United States, 517 U. S. 416, 426 (1996). However, the power to judicially create and enforce nonconstitutional "rules of procedure and evidence for the federal courts exists only in the absence of a relevant Act of Congress." Palermo v. United States, 360 U. S. 343, 353, n. 11 (1959) (citing Funk v. United States, 290 U. S. 371, 382 (1933), and Gordon v. United States, 344 U. S. 414, 418 (1953)). Congress retains the ultimate authority to modify or set aside any judicially created rules of evidence and procedure that are not required by the Constitution. Palermo, supra, at 345-348; Carlisle, supra, at 426; Vance v. Terrazas, 444 U. S. 252, 265 (1980).
But Congress may not legislatively supersede our decisions interpreting and applying the Constitution. See, e. g., City of Boerne v. Flores, 521 U. S. 507, 517-521 (1997). This case therefore turns on whether the Miranda Court announced a constitutional rule or merely exercised its supervisory authority to regulate evidence in the absence of congressional direction. Recognizing this point, the Court of Appeals surveyed Miranda and its progeny to determine the constitutional status of the Miranda decision. 166 F. 3d, at 687-692. Relying on the fact that we have created several exceptions to Miranda `s warnings requirement and that we have repeatedly referred to the Miranda warnings as "prophylactic," New York v. Quarles, 467 U. S. 649, 653 [438] (1984), and "not themselves rights protected by the Constitution," Michigan v. Tucker, 417 U. S. 433, 444 (1974),[3] the Court of Appeals concluded that the protections announced in Miranda are not constitutionally required. 166 F. 3d, at 687-690.
We disagree with the Court of Appeals' conclusion, although we concede that there is language in some of our opinions that supports the view taken by that court. But first and foremost of the factors on the other side—that Miranda is a constitutional decision—is that both Miranda and two of its companion cases applied the rule to proceedings in state courts—to wit, Arizona, California, and New York. See 384 U. S., at 491-494, 497-499. Since that time, we have consistently applied Miranda `s rule to prosecutions arising in state courts. See, e. g., Stansbury v. California, 511 U. S. 318 (1994) (per curiam); Minnick v. Mississippi, 498 U. S. 146 (1990); Arizona v. Roberson, 486 U. S. 675 (1988); Edwards v. Arizona, 451 U. S. 477, 481-482 (1981). It is beyond dispute that we do not hold a supervisory power over the courts of the several States. Smith v. Phillips, 455 U. S. 209, 221 (1982) ("Federal courts hold no supervisory authority over state judicial proceedings and may intervene only to correct wrongs of constitutional dimension"); Cicenia v. Lagay, 357 U. S. 504, 508-509 (1958). With respect to proceedings in state courts, our "authority is limited to enforcing the commands of the United States Constitution." Mu'Min v. Virginia, 500 U. S. 415, 422 (1991). See also Harris v. Rivera, 454 U. S. 339, 344-345 (1981) (per curiam) (stating that "[f]ederal judges . . . may not require the observance [439] of any special procedures" in state courts "except when necessary to assure compliance with the dictates of the Federal Constitution").[4]
The Miranda opinion itself begins by stating that the Court granted certiorari "to explore some facets of the problems . . . of applying the privilege against self-incrimination to in-custody interrogation, and to give concrete constitutional guidelines for law enforcement agencies and courts to follow. " 384 U. S., at 441-442 (emphasis added). In fact, the majority opinion is replete with statements indicating that the majority thought it was announcing a constitutional rule.[5] Indeed, the Court's ultimate conclusion was that the [440] unwarned confessions obtained in the four cases before the Court in Miranda "were obtained from the defendant under circumstances that did not meet constitutional standards for protection of the privilege."[6] Id., at 491.
Additional support for our conclusion that Miranda is constitutionally based is found in the Miranda Court's invitation for legislative action to protect the constitutional right against coerced self-incrimination. After discussing the "compelling pressures" inherent in custodial police interrogation, the Miranda Court concluded that, "[i]n order to combat these pressures and to permit a full opportunity to exercise the privilege against self-incrimination, the accused must be adequately and effectively apprised of his rights and the exercise of those rights must be fully honored." Id., at 467. However, the Court emphasized that it could not foresee "the potential alternatives for protecting the privilege which might be devised by Congress or the States," and it accordingly opined that the Constitution would not preclude legislative solutions that differed from the prescribed Miranda warnings but which were "at least as effective in apprising accused persons of their right of silence and in assuring a continuous opportunity to exercise it."[7] Ibid.
[441] The Court of Appeals also relied on the fact that we have, after our Miranda decision, made exceptions from its rule in cases such as New York v. Quarles, 467 U. S. 649 (1984), and Harris v. New York, 401 U. S. 222 (1971). See 166 F. 3d, at 672, 689-691. But we have also broadened the application of the Miranda doctrine in cases such as Doyle v. Ohio, 426 U. S. 610 (1976), and Arizona v. Roberson, 486 U. S. 675 (1988). These decisions illustrate the principle—not that Miranda is not a constitutional rule—but that no constitutional rule is immutable. No court laying down a general rule can possibly foresee the various circumstances in which counsel will seek to apply it, and the sort of modifications represented by these cases are as much a normal part of constitutional law as the original decision.
The Court of Appeals also noted that in Oregon v. Elstad, 470 U. S. 298 (1985), we stated that "`[t]he Miranda exclusionary rule . . . serves the Fifth Amendment and sweeps more broadly than the Fifth Amendment itself.' " 166 F. 3d, at 690 (quoting Elstad, supra, at 306). Our decision in that case—refusing to apply the traditional "fruits" doctrine developed in Fourth Amendment cases—does not prove that Miranda is a nonconstitutional decision, but simply recognizes the fact that unreasonable searches under the Fourth Amendment are different from unwarned interrogation under the Fifth Amendment.
As an alternative argument for sustaining the Court of Appeals' decision, the court-invited amicus curiae[8] contends that the section complies with the requirement that a legislative alternative to Miranda be equally as effective in preventing coerced confessions. See Brief for Paul G. Cassell [442] as Amicus Curiae 28-39. We agree with the amicus ` contention that there are more remedies available for abusive police conduct than there were at the time Miranda was decided, see, e. g., Wilkins v. May, 872 F. 2d 190, 194 (CA7 1989) (applying Bivens v. Six Unknown Fed. Narcotics Agents, 403 U. S. 388 (1971), to hold that a suspect may bring a federal cause of action under the Due Process Clause for police misconduct during custodial interrogation). But we do not agree that these additional measures supplement § 3501's protections sufficiently to meet the constitutional minimum. Miranda requires procedures that will warn a suspect in custody of his right to remain silent and which will assure the suspect that the exercise of that right will be honored. See, e. g., 384 U. S., at 467. As discussed above, § 3501 explicitly eschews a requirement of preinterrogation warnings in favor of an approach that looks to the administration of such warnings as only one factor in determining the voluntariness of a suspect's confession. The additional remedies cited by amicus do not, in our view, render them, together with § 3501, an adequate substitute for the warnings required by Miranda.
The dissent argues that it is judicial overreaching for this Court to hold § 3501 unconstitutional unless we hold that the Miranda warnings are required by the Constitution, in the sense that nothing else will suffice to satisfy constitutional requirements. Post, at 453-454, 465 (opinion of Scalia, J.). But we need not go further than Miranda to decide this case. In Miranda, the Court noted that reliance on the traditional totality-of-the-circumstances test raised a risk of overlooking an involuntary custodial confession, 384 U. S, at 457, a risk that the Court found unacceptably great when the confession is offered in the case in chief to prove guilt. The Court therefore concluded that something more than the totality test was necessary. See ibid.; see also id., at 467, 490-491. As discussed above, § 3501 reinstates the totality test as [443] sufficient. Section 3501 therefore cannot be sustained if Miranda is to remain the law.
Whether or not we would agree with Miranda `s reasoning and its resulting rule, were we addressing the issue in the first instance, the principles of stare decisis weigh heavily against overruling it now. See, e. g., Rhode Island v. Innis, 446 U. S. 291, 304 (1980) (Burger, C. J., concurring in judgment) ("The meaning of Miranda has become reasonably clear and law enforcement practices have adjusted to its strictures; I would neither overrule Miranda, disparage it, nor extend it at this late date"). While "`stare decisis is not an inexorable command,' " State Oil Co. v. Khan, 522 U. S. 3, 20 (1997) (quoting Payne v. Tennessee, 501 U. S. 808, 828 (1991)), particularly when we are interpreting the Constitution, Agostini v. Felton, 521 U. S. 203, 235 (1997), "even in constitutional cases, the doctrine carries such persuasive force that we have always required a departure from precedent to be supported by some `special justification.' " United States v. International Business Machines Corp., 517 U. S. 843, 856 (1996) (quoting Payne, supra, at 842 (Souter, J., concurring), in turn quoting Arizona v. Rumsey, 467 U. S. 203, 212 (1984)).
We do not think there is such justification for overruling Miranda. Miranda has become embedded in routine police practice to the point where the warnings have become part of our national culture. See Mitchell v. United States, 526 U. S. 314, 331-332 (1999) (Scalia, J., dissenting) (stating that the fact that a rule has found "`wide acceptance in the legal culture' " is "adequate reason not to overrule" it). While we have overruled our precedents when subsequent cases have undermined their doctrinal underpinnings, see, e. g., Patterson v. McLean Credit Union, 491 U. S. 164, 173 (1989), we do not believe that this has happened to the Miranda decision. If anything, our subsequent cases have reduced the impact of the Miranda rule on legitimate law enforcement while reaffirming the decision's core ruling that unwarned [444] statements may not be used as evidence in the prosecution's case in chief.
The disadvantage of the Miranda rule is that statements which may be by no means involuntary, made by a defendant who is aware of his "rights," may nonetheless be excluded and a guilty defendant go free as a result. But experience suggests that the totality-of-the-circumstances test which § 3501 seeks to revive is more difficult than Miranda for law enforcement officers to conform to, and for courts to apply in a consistent manner. See, e. g., Haynes v. Washington, 373 U. S., at 515 ("The line between proper and permissible police conduct and techniques and methods offensive to due process is, at best, a difficult one to draw"). The requirement that Miranda warnings be given does not, of course, dispense with the voluntariness inquiry. But as we said in Berkemer v. McCarty, 468 U. S. 420 (1984), "[c]ases in which a defendant can make a colorable argument that a self-incriminating statement was `compelled' despite the fact that the law enforcement authorities adhered to the dictates of Miranda are rare." Id., at 433, n. 20.
In sum, we conclude that Miranda announced a constitutional rule that Congress may not supersede legislatively. Following the rule of stare decisis, we decline to overrule Miranda ourselves.[9] The judgment of the Court of Appeals is therefore
Reversed.
Justice Scalia, with whom Justice Thomas joins, dissenting.
Those to whom judicial decisions are an unconnected series of judgments that produce either favored or disfavored [445] results will doubtless greet today's decision as a paragon of moderation, since it declines to overrule Miranda v. Arizona, 384 U. S. 436 (1966). Those who understand the judicial process will appreciate that today's decision is not a reaffirmation of Miranda, but a radical revision of the most significant element of Miranda (as of all cases): the rationale that gives it a permanent place in our jurisprudence.
Marbury v. Madison, 1 Cranch 137 (1803), held that an Act of Congress will not be enforced by the courts if what it prescribes violates the Constitution of the United States. That was the basis on which Miranda was decided. One will search today's opinion in vain, however, for a statement (surely simple enough to make) that what 18 U. S. C. § 3501 prescribes—the use at trial of a voluntary confession, even when a Miranda warning or its equivalent has failed to be given—violates the Constitution. The reason the statement does not appear is not only (and perhaps not so much) that it would be absurd, inasmuch as § 3501 excludes from trial precisely what the Constitution excludes from trial, viz., compelled confessions; but also that Justices whose votes are needed to compose today's majority are on record as believing that a violation of Miranda is not a violation of the Constitution. See Davis v. United States, 512 U. S. 452, 457-458 (1994) (opinion of the Court, in which Kennedy, J., joined); Duckworth v. Eagan, 492 U. S. 195, 203 (1989) (opinion of the Court, in which Kennedy, J., joined); Oregon v. Elstad, 470 U. S. 298 (1985) (opinion of the Court by O'Connor, J.); New York v. Quarles, 467 U. S. 649 (1984) (opinion of the Court by Rehnquist, J.). And so, to justify today's agreed-upon result, the Court must adopt a significant new, if not entirely comprehensible, principle of constitutional law. As the Court chooses to describe that principle, statutes of Congress can be disregarded, not only when what they prescribe violates the Constitution, but when what they prescribe contradicts a decision of this Court that "announced a constitutional rule," ante, at 437. As I shall discuss in some [446] detail, the only thing that can possibly mean in the context of this case is that this Court has the power, not merely to apply the Constitution but to expand it, imposing what it regards as useful "prophylactic" restrictions upon Congress and the States. That is an immense and frightening antidemocratic power, and it does not exist.
It takes only a small step to bring today's opinion out of the realm of power-judging and into the mainstream of legal reasoning: The Court need only go beyond its carefully couched iterations that "Miranda is a constitutional decision," ante, at 438, that "Miranda is constitutionally based," ante, at 440, that Miranda has "constitutional underpinnings," ante, at 440, n. 5, and come out and say quite clearly: "We reaffirm today that custodial interrogation that is not preceded by Miranda warnings or their equivalent violates the Constitution of the United States." It cannot say that, because a majority of the Court does not believe it. The Court therefore acts in plain violation of the Constitution when it denies effect to this Act of Congress.
I
Early in this Nation's history, this Court established the sound proposition that constitutional government in a system of separated powers requires judges to regard as inoperative any legislative Act, even of Congress itself, that is "repugnant to the Constitution."
"So if a law be in opposition to the constitution; if both the law and the constitution apply to a particular case, so that the court must either decide that case conformably to the law, disregarding the constitution; or conformably to the constitution, disregarding the law; the court must determine which of these conflicting rules governs the case." Marbury, supra, at 178. The power we recognized in Marbury will thus permit us, indeed require us, to "disregar[d]" § 3501, a duly enacted [447] statute governing the admissibility of evidence in the federal courts, only if it "be in opposition to the constitution"—here, assertedly, the dictates of the Fifth Amendment.
It was once possible to characterize the so-called Miranda rule as resting (however implausibly) upon the proposition that what the statute here before us permits—the admission at trial of un-Mirandized confessions—violates the Constitution. That is the fairest reading of the Miranda case itself. The Court began by announcing that the Fifth Amendment privilege against self-incrimination applied in the context of extrajudicial custodial interrogation, see 384 U. S., at 460— 467—itself a doubtful proposition as a matter both of history and precedent, see id., at 510-511 (Harlan, J., dissenting) (characterizing the Court's conclusion that the Fifth Amendment privilege, rather than the Due Process Clause, governed station house confessions as a "trompe l'oeil "). Having extended the privilege into the confines of the station house, the Court liberally sprinkled throughout its sprawling 60-page opinion suggestions that, because of the compulsion inherent in custodial interrogation, the privilege was violated by any statement thus obtained that did not conform to the rules set forth in Miranda, or some functional equivalent. See id., at 458 ("Unless adequate protective devices are employed to dispel the compulsion inherent in custodial surroundings, no statement obtained from the defendant can truly be the product of his free choice" (emphases added)); id., at 461 ("An individual swept from familiar surroundings into police custody, surrounded by antagonistic forces, and subjected to the techniques of persuasion described above cannot be otherwise than under compulsion to speak"); id., at 467 ("We have concluded that without proper safeguards the process of in-custody interrogation . . . contains inherently compelling pressures which work to undermine the individual's will to resist and to compel him to speak where he would not otherwise do so freely"); id., at 457, n. 26 (noting [448] the "absurdity of denying that a confession obtained under these circumstances is compelled").
The dissenters, for their part, also understood Miranda `s holding to be based on the "premise . . . that pressure on the suspect must be eliminated though it be only the subtle influence of the atmosphere and surroundings." Id., at 512 (Harlan, J., dissenting). See also id., at 535 (White, J., dissenting) ("[I]t has never been suggested, until today, that such questioning was so coercive and accused persons so lacking in hardihood that the very first response to the very first question following the commencement of custody must be conclusively presumed to be the product of an overborne will"). And at least one case decided shortly after Miranda explicitly confirmed the view. See Orozco v. Texas, 394 U. S. 324, 326 (1969) ("[T]he use of these admissions obtained in the absence of the required warnings was a flat violation of the Self-Incrimination Clause of the Fifth Amendment as construed in Miranda ").
So understood, Miranda was objectionable for innumerable reasons, not least the fact that cases spanning more than 70 years had rejected its core premise that, absent the warnings and an effective waiver of the right to remain silent and of the (thitherto unknown) right to have an attorney present, a statement obtained pursuant to custodial interrogation was necessarily the product of compulsion. See Crooker v. California, 357 U. S. 433 (1958) (confession not involuntary despite denial of access to counsel); Cicenia v. Lagay, 357 U. S. 504 (1958) (same); Powers v. United States, 223 U. S. 303 (1912) (lack of warnings and counsel did not render statement before United States Commissioner involuntary); Wilson v. United States, 162 U. S. 613 (1896) (same). Moreover, history and precedent aside, the decision in Miranda, if read as an explication of what the Constitution requires, is preposterous. There is, for example, simply no basis in reason for concluding that a response to the very first question asked, by a suspect who already knows all of the rights described [449] in the Miranda warning, is anything other than a volitional act. See Miranda, supra, at 533-534 (White, J., dissenting). And even if one assumes that the elimination of compulsion absolutely requires informing even the most knowledgeable suspect of his right to remain silent, it cannot conceivably require the right to have counsel present. There is a world of difference, which the Court recognized under the traditional voluntariness test but ignored in Miranda, between compelling a suspect to incriminate himself and preventing him from foolishly doing so of his own accord. Only the latter (which is not required by the Constitution) could explain the Court's inclusion of a right to counsel and the requirement that it, too, be knowingly and intelligently waived. Counsel's presence is not required to tell the suspect that he need not speak; the interrogators can do that. The only good reason for having counsel there is that he can be counted on to advise the suspect that he should not speak. See Watts v. Indiana, 338 U. S. 49, 59 (1949) (Jackson, J., concurring in result in part and dissenting in part) ("[A]ny lawyer worth his salt will tell the suspect in no uncertain terms to make no statement to police under any circumstances").
Preventing foolish (rather than compelled) confessions is likewise the only conceivable basis for the rules (suggested in Miranda, see 384 U. S., at 444-445, 473-474), that courts must exclude any confession elicited by questioning conducted, without interruption, after the suspect has indicated a desire to stand on his right to remain silent, see Michigan v. Mosley, 423 U. S. 96, 105-106 (1975), or initiated by police after the suspect has expressed a desire to have counsel present, see Edwards v. Arizona, 451 U. S. 477, 484— 485 (1981). Nonthreatening attempts to persuade the suspect to reconsider that initial decision are not, without more, enough to render a change of heart the product of anything other than the suspect's free will. Thus, what is most remarkable about the Miranda decision—and what [450] made it unacceptable as a matter of straightforward constitutional interpretation in the Marbury tradition—is its palpable hostility toward the act of confession per se, rather than toward what the Constitution abhors, compelled confession. See United States v. Washington, 431 U. S. 181, 187 (1977) ("[F]ar from being prohibited by the Constitution, admissions of guilt by wrongdoers, if not coerced, are inherently desirable"). The Constitution is not, unlike the Miranda majority, offended by a criminal's commendable qualm of conscience or fortunate fit of stupidity. Cf. Minnick v. Mississippi, 498 U. S. 146, 166-167 (1990) (Scalia, J., dissenting).
For these reasons, and others more than adequately developed in the Miranda dissents and in the subsequent works of the decision's many critics, any conclusion that a violation of the Miranda rules necessarily amounts to a violation of the privilege against compelled self-incrimination can claim no support in history, precedent, or common sense, and as a result would at least presumptively be worth reconsidering even at this late date. But that is unnecessary, since the Court has (thankfully) long since abandoned the notion that failure to comply with Miranda `s rules is itself a violation of the Constitution.
II
As the Court today acknowledges, since Miranda we have explicitly, and repeatedly, interpreted that decision as having announced, not the circumstances in which custodial interrogation runs afoul of the Fifth or Fourteenth Amendment, but rather only "prophylactic" rules that go beyond the right against compelled self-incrimination. Of course the seeds of this "prophylactic" interpretation of Miranda were present in the decision itself. See Miranda, 384 U. S., at 439 (discussing the "necessity for procedures which assure that the [suspect] is accorded his privilege"); id., at 447 ("[u]nless a proper limitation upon custodial interrogation is achieved— such as these decisions will advance—there can be no assurance [451] that practices of this nature will be eradicated"); id., at 457 ("[i]n these cases, we might not find the defendants' statements to have been involuntary in traditional terms"); ibid. (noting "concern for adequate safeguards to protect precious Fifth Amendment rights" and the "potentiality for compulsion" in Ernesto Miranda's interrogation). In subsequent cases, the seeds have sprouted and borne fruit: The Court has squarely concluded that it is possible—indeed not uncommon—for the police to violate Miranda without also violating the Constitution.
Michigan v. Tucker, 417 U. S. 433 (1974), an opinion for the Court written by then-Justice Rehnquist, rejected the true-to-Marbury, failure-to-warn-as-constitutional-violation interpretation of Miranda. It held that exclusion of the "fruits" of a Miranda violation—the statement of a witness whose identity the defendant had revealed while in custody—was not required. The opinion explained that the question whether the "police conduct complained of directly infringed upon respondent's right against compulsory selfincrimination" was a "separate question" from "whether it instead violated only the prophylactic rules developed to protect that right." 417 U. S., at 439. The "procedural safeguards" adopted in Miranda, the Court said, "were not themselves rights protected by the Constitution but were instead measures to insure that the right against compulsory self-incrimination was protected," and to "provide practical reinforcement for the right," 417 U. S., at 444. Comparing the particular facts of the custodial interrogation with the "historical circumstances underlying the privilege," ibid., the Court concluded, unequivocally, that the defendant's statement could not be termed "involuntary as that term has been defined in the decisions of this Court," id., at 445, and thus that there had been no constitutional violation, notwithstanding the clear violation of the "procedural rules later established in Miranda, " ibid. Lest there be any confusion on the point, the Court reiterated that the "police conduct at [452] issue here did not abridge respondent's constitutional privilege against compulsory self-incrimination, but departed only from the prophylactic standards later laid down by this Court in Miranda to safeguard that privilege." Id., at 446. It is clear from our cases, of course, that if the statement in Tucker had been obtained in violation of the Fifth Amendment, the statement and its fruits would have been excluded. See Nix v. Williams, 467 U. S. 431, 442 (1984).
The next year, in Oregon v. Hass, 420 U. S. 714 (1975), the Court held that a defendant's statement taken in violation of Miranda that was nonetheless voluntary could be used at trial for impeachment purposes. This holding turned upon the recognition that violation of Miranda is not unconstitutional compulsion, since statements obtained in actual violation of the privilege against compelled self-incrimination, "as opposed to . . . taken in violation of Miranda, " quite simply "may not be put to any testimonial use whatever against [the defendant] in a criminal trial," including as impeachment evidence. New Jersey v. Portash, 440 U. S. 450, 459 (1979). See also Mincey v. Arizona, 437 U. S. 385, 397— 398 (1978) (holding that while statements obtained in violation of Miranda may be used for impeachment if otherwise trustworthy, the Constitution prohibits "any criminal trial use against a defendant of his involuntary statement").
Nearly a decade later, in New York v. Quarles, 467 U. S. 649 (1984), the Court relied upon the fact that "[t]he prophylactic Miranda warnings . . . are `not themselves rights protected by the Constitution,' " id., at 654 (quoting Tucker, supra, at 444), to create a "public safety" exception. In that case, police apprehended, after a chase in a grocery store, a rape suspect known to be carrying a gun. After handcuffing and searching him (and finding no gun)—but before reading him his Miranda warnings—the police demanded to know where the gun was. The defendant nodded in the direction of some empty cartons and responded that "the gun is over there." The Court held that both the unwarned [453] statement—"the gun is over there"—and the recovered weapon were admissible in the prosecution's case in chief under a "public safety exception" to the "prophylactic rules enunciated in Miranda. " 467 U. S., at 653. It explicitly acknowledged that if the Miranda warnings were an imperative of the Fifth Amendment itself, such an exigency exception would be impossible, since the Fifth Amendment's bar on compelled self-incrimination is absolute, and its "`strictures, unlike the Fourth's are not removed by showing reasonableness,' " 467 U. S., at 653, n. 3. (For the latter reason, the Court found it necessary to note that respondent did not "claim that [his] statements were actually compelled by police conduct which overcame his will to resist," id., at 654.)
The next year, the Court again declined to apply the "fruit of the poisonous tree" doctrine to a Miranda violation, this time allowing the admission of a suspect's properly warned statement even though it had been preceded (and, arguably, induced) by an earlier inculpatory statement taken in violation of Miranda. Oregon v. Elstad, 470 U. S. 298 (1985). As in Tucker, the Court distinguished the case from those holding that a confession obtained as a result of an unconstitutional search is inadmissible, on the ground that the violation of Miranda does not involve an "actual infringement of the suspect's constitutional rights," 470 U. S., at 308. Miranda, the Court explained, "sweeps more broadly than the Fifth Amendment itself," and "Miranda `s preventive medicine provides a remedy even to the defendant who has suffered no identifiable constitutional harm." 470 U. S., at 306-307. "[E]rrors [that] are made by law enforcement officers in administering the prophylactic Miranda procedures . . . should not breed the same irremediable consequences as police infringement of the Fifth Amendment itself." Id., at 308-309.
In light of these cases, and our statements to the same effect in others, see, e. g., Davis v. United States, 512 U. S., at 457-458; Withrow v. Williams, 507 U. S. 680, 690-691 (1993); [454] Eagan, 492 U. S., at 203, it is simply no longer possible for the Court to conclude, even if it wanted to, that a violation of Miranda' s rules is a violation of the Constitution. But as I explained at the outset, that is what is required before the Court may disregard a law of Congress governing the admissibility of evidence in federal court. The Court today insists that the decision in Miranda is a "constitutional" one, ante, at 432, 438; that it has "constitutional underpinnings," ante, at 440, n. 5; a "constitutional basis" and a "constitutional origin," ante, at 439, n. 3; that it was "constitutionally based," ante, at 440; and that it announced a "constitutional rule," ante, at 437, 439, 441, 444. It is fine to play these word games; but what makes a decision "constitutional" in the only sense relevant here—in the sense that renders it impervious to supersession by congressional legislation such as § 3501— is the determination that the Constitution requires the result that the decision announces and the statute ignores. By disregarding congressional action that concededly does not violate the Constitution, the Court flagrantly offends fundamental principles of separation of powers, and arrogates to itself prerogatives reserved to the representatives of the people.
The Court seeks to avoid this conclusion in two ways: First, by misdescribing these post-Miranda cases as mere dicta. The Court concedes only "that there is language in some of our opinions that supports the view" that Miranda `s protections are not "constitutionally required." Ante, at 438. It is not a matter of language; it is a matter of holdings. The proposition that failure to comply with Miranda `s rules does not establish a constitutional violation was central to the holdings of Tucker, Hass, Quarles, and Elstad.
The second way the Court seeks to avoid the impact of these cases is simply to disclaim responsibility for reasoned decisionmaking. It says:
"These decisions illustrate the principle—not that Mi- randa is not a constitutional rule—but that no constitutional rule is immutable. No court laying down a general [455] rule can possibly foresee the various circumstances in which counsel will seek to apply it, and the sort of modifications represented by these cases are as much a normal part of constitutional law as the original decision." Ante, at 441. The issue, however, is not whether court rules are "mutable"; they assuredly are. It is not whether, in the light of "various circumstances," they can be "modifi[ed]"; they assuredly can. The issue is whether, as mutated and modified, they must make sense. The requirement that they do so is the only thing that prevents this Court from being some sort of nine-headed Caesar, giving thumbs-up or thumbs-down to whatever outcome, case by case, suits or offends its collective fancy. And if confessions procured in violation of Miranda are confessions "compelled" in violation of the Constitution, the post-Miranda decisions I have discussed do not make sense. The only reasoned basis for their outcome was that a violation of Miranda is not a violation of the Constitution. If, for example, as the Court acknowledges was the holding of Elstad, "the traditional `fruits' doctrine developed in Fourth Amendment cases" (that the fruits of evidence obtained unconstitutionally must be excluded from trial) does not apply to the fruits of Miranda violations, ante, at 441; and if the reason for the difference is not that Miranda violations are not constitutional violations (which is plainly and flatly what Elstad said); then the Court must come up with some other explanation for the difference. (That will take quite a bit of doing, by the way, since it is not clear on the face of the Fourth Amendment that evidence obtained in violation of that guarantee must be excluded from trial, whereas it is clear on the face of the Fifth Amendment that unconstitutionally compelled confessions cannot be used.) To say simply that "unreasonable searches under the Fourth Amendment are different from unwarned interrogation under the Fifth Amendment," ante, at 441, is true but supremely unhelpful.
[456] Finally, the Court asserts that Miranda must be a "constitutional decision" announcing a "constitutional rule," and thus immune to congressional modification, because we have since its inception applied it to the States. If this argument is meant as an invocation of stare decisis, it fails because, though it is true that our cases applying Miranda against the States must be reconsidered if Miranda is not required by the Constitution, it is likewise true that our cases (discussed above) based on the principle that Miranda is not required by the Constitution will have to be reconsidered if it is. So the stare decisis argument is a wash. If, on the other hand, the argument is meant as an appeal to logic rather than stare decisis, it is a classic example of begging the question: Congress's attempt to set aside Miranda, since it represents an assertion that violation of Miranda is not a violation of the Constitution, also represents an assertion that the Court has no power to impose Miranda on the States. To answer this assertion—not by showing why violation of Miranda is a violation of the Constitution—but by asserting that Miranda does apply against the States, is to assume precisely the point at issue. In my view, our continued application of the Miranda code to the States despite our consistent statements that running afoul of its dictates does not necessarily—or even usually—result in an actual constitutional violation, represents not the source of Miranda `s salvation but rather evidence of its ultimate illegitimacy. See generally J. Grano, Confessions, Truth, and the Law 173-198 (1993); Grano, Prophylactic Rules in Criminal Procedure: A Question of Article III Legitimacy, 80 Nw. U. L. Rev. 100 (1985). As Justice Stevens has elsewhere explained: "This Court's power to require state courts to exclude probative self-incriminatory statements rests entirely on the premise that the use of such evidence violates the Federal Constitution. . . . If the Court does not accept that premise, it must regard the holding in the Miranda case itself, as well as all of the federal jurisprudence that has [457] evolved from that decision, as nothing more than an illegitimate exercise of raw judicial power." Elstad, 470 U. S., at 370 (dissenting opinion). Quite so.
III
There was available to the Court a means of reconciling the established proposition that a violation of Miranda does not itself offend the Fifth Amendment with the Court's assertion of a right to ignore the present statute. That means of reconciliation was argued strenuously by both petitioner and the United States, who were evidently more concerned than the Court is with maintaining the coherence of our jurisprudence. It is not mentioned in the Court's opinion because, I assume, a majority of the Justices intent on reversing believes that incoherence is the lesser evil. They may be right.
Petitioner and the United States contend that there is nothing at all exceptional, much less unconstitutional, about the Court's adopting prophylactic rules to buttress constitutional rights, and enforcing them against Congress and the States. Indeed, the United States argues that "[p]rophylactic rules are now and have been for many years a feature of this Court's constitutional adjudication." Brief for United States 47. That statement is not wholly inaccurate, if by "many years" one means since the mid-1960's. However, in their zeal to validate what is in my view a lawless practice, the United States and petitioner greatly overstate the frequency with which we have engaged in it. For instance, petitioner cites several cases in which the Court quite simply exercised its traditional judicial power to define the scope of constitutional protections and, relatedly, the circumstances in which they are violated. See Loretto v. Teleprompter Manhattan CATV Corp., 458 U. S. 419, 436-437 (1982) (holding that a permanent physical occupation constitutes a per se taking); Maine v. Moulton, 474 U. S. 159, 176 (1985) (holding that the Sixth Amendment right to the assistance [458] of counsel is actually "violated when the State obtains incriminating statements by knowingly circumventing the accused's right to have counsel present in a confrontation between the accused and a state agent").
Similarly unsupportive of the supposed practice is Bruton v. United States, 391 U. S. 123 (1968), where we concluded that the Confrontation Clause of the Sixth Amendment forbids the admission of a nontestifying codefendant's facially incriminating confession in a joint trial, even where the jury has been given a limiting instruction. That decision was based, not upon the theory that this was desirable protection "beyond" what the Confrontation Clause technically required; but rather upon the self-evident proposition that the inability to cross-examine an available witness whose damaging out-of-court testimony is introduced violates the Confrontation Clause, combined with the conclusion that in these circumstances a mere jury instruction can never be relied upon to prevent the testimony from being damaging, see Richardson v. Marsh, 481 U. S. 200, 207-208 (1987).
The United States also relies on our cases involving the question whether a State's procedure for appointed counsel's withdrawal of representation on appeal satisfies the State's constitutional obligation to "`affor[d] adequate and effective appellate review to indigent defendants.' " Smith v. Robbins, 528 U. S. 259, 276 (2000) (quoting Griffin v. Illinois, 351 U. S. 12, 20 (1956)). In Anders v. California, 386 U. S. 738 (1967), we concluded that California's procedure governing withdrawal fell short of the constitutional minimum, and we outlined a procedure that would meet that standard. But as we made clear earlier this Term in Smith, which upheld a procedure different from the one Anders suggested, the benchmark of constitutionality is the constitutional requirement of adequate representation, and not some excrescence upon that requirement decreed, for safety's sake, by this Court.
[459] In a footnote, the United States directs our attention to certain overprotective First Amendment rules that we have adopted to ensure "breathing space" for expression. See Gertz v. Robert Welch, Inc., 418 U. S. 323, 340, 342 (1974) (recognizing that in New York Times Co. v. Sullivan, 376 U. S. 254 (1964), we "extended a measure of strategic protection to defamatory falsehood" of public officials); Freedman v. Maryland, 380 U. S. 51, 58 (1965) (setting forth "procedural safeguards designed to obviate the dangers of a censorship system" with respect to motion picture obscenity). In these cases, and others involving the First Amendment, the Court has acknowledged that in order to guarantee that protected speech is not "chilled" and thus forgone, it is in some instances necessary to incorporate in our substantive rules a "measure of strategic protection." But that is because the Court has viewed the importation of "chill" as itself a violation of the First Amendment—not because the Court thought it could go beyond what the First Amendment demanded in order to provide some prophylaxis.
Petitioner and the United States are right on target, however, in characterizing the Court's actions in a case decided within a few years of Miranda, North Carolina v. Pearce, 395 U. S. 711 (1969). There, the Court concluded that due process would be offended were a judge vindictively to resentence with added severity a defendant who had successfully appealed his original conviction. Rather than simply announce that vindictive sentencing violates the Due Process Clause, the Court went on to hold that "[i]n order to assure the absence of such a [vindictive] motivation, . . . the reasons for [imposing the increased sentence] must affirmatively appear" and must "be based upon objective information concerning identifiable conduct on the part of the defendant occurring after the time of the original sentencing proceeding." Id., at 726. The Court later explicitly acknowledged Pearce `s prophylactic character, see Michigan v. Payne, 412 U. S. 47, 53 (1973). It is true, therefore, that the [460] case exhibits the same fundamental flaw as does Miranda when deprived (as it has been) of its original (implausible) pretension to announcement of what the Constitution itself required. That is, although the Due Process Clause may well prohibit punishment based on judicial vindictiveness, the Constitution by no means vests in the courts "any general power to prescribe particular devices `in order to assure the absence of such a motivation,' " 395 U. S., at 741 (Black, J., dissenting). Justice Black surely had the right idea when he derided the Court's requirement as "pure legislation if there ever was legislation," ibid., although in truth Pearce `s rule pales as a legislative achievement when compared to the detailed code promulgated in Miranda.[10]
The foregoing demonstrates that, petitioner's and the United States' suggestions to the contrary notwithstanding, what the Court did in Miranda (assuming, as later cases hold, that Miranda went beyond what the Constitution actually requires) is in fact extraordinary. That the Court has, on rare and recent occasion, repeated the mistake does not transform error into truth, but illustrates the potential for future mischief that the error entails. Where the Constitution has wished to lodge in one of the branches of the Federal Government some limited power to supplement its guarantees, it has said so. See Amdt. 14, § 5 ("The Congress shall have power to enforce, by appropriate legislation, the provisions of this article"). The power with which the Court would endow itself under a "prophylactic" justification for Miranda goes far beyond what it has permitted Congress to do under authority of that text. Whereas we have insisted [461] that congressional action under § 5 of the Fourteenth Amendment must be "congruent" with, and "proportional" to, a constitutional violation, see City of Boerne v. Flores, 521 U. S. 507, 520 (1997), the Miranda nontextual power to embellish confers authority to prescribe preventive measures against not only constitutionally prohibited compelled confessions, but also (as discussed earlier) foolhardy ones.
I applaud, therefore, the refusal of the Justices in the majority to enunciate this boundless doctrine of judicial empowerment as a means of rendering today's decision rational. In nonetheless joining the Court's judgment, however, they overlook two truisms: that actions speak louder than silence, and that (in judge-made law at least) logic will out. Since there is in fact no other principle that can reconcile today's judgment with the post-Miranda cases that the Court refuses to abandon, what today's decision will stand for, whether the Justices can bring themselves to say it or not, is the power of the Supreme Court to write a prophylactic, extra constitutional Constitution, binding on Congress and the States.
IV
Thus, while I agree with the Court that § 3501 cannot be upheld without also concluding that Miranda represents an illegitimate exercise of our authority to review state-court judgments, I do not share the Court's hesitation in reaching that conclusion. For while the Court is also correct that the doctrine of stare decisis demands some "special justification" for a departure from longstanding precedent—even precedent of the constitutional variety—that criterion is more than met here. To repeat Justice Stevens' cogent observation, it is "[o]bviou[s]" that "the Court's power to reverse Miranda's conviction rested entirely on the determination that a violation of the Federal Constitution had occurred." Elstad, 470 U. S., at 367, n. 9 (dissenting opinion) (emphasis added). Despite the Court's Orwellian assertion to the contrary, it is undeniable that later cases (discussed [462] above) have "undermined [Miranda `s] doctrinal underpinnings," ante, at 443, denying constitutional violation and thus stripping the holding of its only constitutionally legitimate support. Miranda `s critics and supporters alike have long made this point. See Office of Legal Policy, U. S. Dept. of Justice, Report to Attorney General on Law of Pre-Trial Interrogation 97 (Feb. 12, 1986) ("The current Court has repudiated the premises on which Miranda was based, but has drawn back from recognizing the full implications of its decisions"); id., at 78 ("Michigan v. Tucker accordingly repudiated the doctrinal basis of the Miranda decision"); Sonenshein, Miranda and the Burger Court: Trends and Countertrends, 13 Loyola U. Chi. L. J. 405, 407-408 (1982) ("Although the Burger Court has not overruled Miranda, the Court has consistently undermined the rationales, assumptions, and values which gave Miranda life"); id., at 425-426 ("Seemingly, the Court [in Michigan v. Tucker ] utterly destroyed both Miranda `s rationale and its holding"); Stone, The Miranda Doctrine in the Burger Court, 1977 S. Ct. Rev. 99, 118 ("Mr. Justice Rehnquist's conclusion that there is a violation of the Self-Incrimination Clause only if a confession is involuntary . . . is an outright rejection of the core premises of Miranda ").
The Court cites Patterson v. McLean Credit Union, 491 U. S. 164, 173 (1989), as accurately reflecting our standard for overruling, see ante, at 443—which I am pleased to accept, even though Patterson was speaking of overruling statutory cases and the standard for constitutional decisions is somewhat more lenient. What is set forth there reads as though it was written precisely with the current status of Miranda in mind:
"In cases where statutory precedents have been overruled, the primary reason for the Court's shift in position has been the intervening development of the law, through either the growth of judicial doctrine or further action taken by Congress. Where such changes have [463] removed or weakened the conceptual underpinnings from the prior decision, . . . or where the later law has rendered the decision irreconcilable with competing legal doctrines or policies, . . . the Court has not hesitated to overrule an earlier decision." 491 U. S., at 173. Neither am I persuaded by the argument for retaining Miranda that touts its supposed workability as compared with the totality-of-the-circumstances test it purported to replace. Miranda `s proponents cite ad nauseam the fact that the Court was called upon to make difficult and subtle distinctions in applying the "voluntariness" test in some 30-odd due process "coerced confessions" cases in the 30 years between Brown v. Mississippi, 297 U. S. 278 (1936), and Miranda. It is not immediately apparent, however, that the judicial burden has been eased by the "bright-line" rules adopted in Miranda. In fact, in the 34 years since Miranda was decided, this Court has been called upon to decide nearly 60 cases involving a host of Miranda issues, most of them predicted with remarkable prescience by Justice White in his Miranda dissent. 384 U. S., at 545.
Moreover, it is not clear why the Court thinks that the "totality-of-the-circumstances test . . . is more difficult than Miranda for law enforcement officers to conform to, and for courts to apply in a consistent manner." Ante, at 444. Indeed, I find myself persuaded by Justice O'Connor's rejection of this same argument in her opinion in Williams, 507 U. S., at 711-712 (O'Connor, J., joined by Rehnquist, C. J., concurring in part and dissenting in part):
"Miranda, for all its alleged brightness, is not without its difficulties; and voluntariness is not without its strengths. . . . ". . . Miranda creates as many close questions as it resolves. The task of determining whether a defendant is in `custody' has proved to be `a slippery one.' And the supposedly `bright' lines that separate interrogation [464] from spontaneous declaration, the exercise of a right from waiver, and the adequate warning from the inadequate, likewise have turned out to be rather dim and ill defined. . . . "The totality-of-the-circumstances approach, on the other hand, permits each fact to be taken into account without resort to formal and dispositive labels. By dispensing with the difficulty of producing a yes-or-no answer to questions that are often better answered in shades and degrees, the voluntariness inquiry often can make judicial decisionmaking easier rather than more onerous. " (Emphasis added; citations omitted.) But even were I to agree that the old totality-of-thecircumstances test was more cumbersome, it is simply not true that Miranda has banished it from the law and replaced it with a new test. Under the current regime, which the Court today retains in its entirety, courts are frequently called upon to undertake both inquiries. That is because, as explained earlier, voluntariness remains the constitutional standard, and as such continues to govern the admissibility for impeachment purposes of statements taken in violation of Miranda, the admissibility of the "fruits" of such statements, and the admissibility of statements challenged as unconstitutionally obtained despite the interrogator's compliance with Miranda, see, e. g., Colorado v. Connelly, 479 U. S. 157 (1986).
Finally, I am not convinced by petitioner's argument that Miranda should be preserved because the decision occupies a special place in the "public's consciousness." Brief for Petitioner 44. As far as I am aware, the public is not under the illusion that we are infallible. I see little harm in admitting that we made a mistake in taking away from the people the ability to decide for themselves what protections (beyond those required by the Constitution) are reasonably affordable in the criminal investigatory process. And I see much to be gained by reaffirming for the people the wonderful reality [465] that they govern themselves—which means that "[t]he powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution" that the people adopted, "nor prohibited . . . to the States" by that Constitution, "are reserved to the States respectively, or to the people," U. S. Const., Amdt. 10.[11]
* * *
Today's judgment converts Miranda from a milestone of judicial overreaching into the very Cheops' Pyramid (or perhaps the Sphinx would be a better analogue) of judicial arrogance. In imposing its Court-made code upon the States, the original opinion at least asserted that it was demanded by the Constitution. Today's decision does not pretend that it is—and yet still asserts the right to impose it against the will of the people's representatives in Congress. Far from believing that stare decisis compels this result, I believe we cannot allow to remain on the books even a celebrated decision—especially a celebrated decision—that has come to stand for the proposition that the Supreme Court has power to impose extra constitutional constraints upon Congress and the States. This is not the system that was established by the Framers, or that would be established by any sane supporter of government by the people.
I dissent from today's decision, and, until § 3501 is repealed, will continue to apply it in all cases where there has been a sustainable finding that the defendant's confession was voluntary.
[1] Briefs of amici curiae urging reversal were filed for the American Civil Liberties Union by Jonathan L. Abram, Audrey J. Anderson, Steven R. Shapiro, Vivian Berger, Susan N. Herman, and Stephen Schulhofer; for the House Democratic Leadership by Charles Tiefer and Jonathan W. Cuneo; for the National Association of Criminal Defense Lawyers et al. by Paul M. Smith, Deanne E. Maynard, Lisa B. Kemler, and John T. Philipsborn; for the National Legal Aid and Defender Association by Charles D. Weisselberg and Michelle Falkoff; for the Rutherford Institute by James Joseph Lynch, Jr., and John W. Whitehead; for Griffin B. Bell by Robert S. Litt, John A. Freedman, and Daniel C. Richman; and for Benjamin R. Civiletti by Mr. Civiletti, pro se, Kenneth C. Bass III, and John F. Cooney.
Briefs of amici curiae urging affirmance were filed for the State of South Carolina et al. by Charles M. Condon, Attorney General of South Carolina, Treva Ashworth, Deputy Attorney General, Kenneth P. Woodington, Senior Assistant Attorney General, and Travey Colton Green, Assistant Attorney General; for the Maricopa County Attorney's Office by Theodore B. Olson, Douglas R. Cox, and Miguel A. Estrada; for Arizona Voices for Victims et al. by Douglas Beloof; for the Bipartisan Legal Advisory Group of the United States House of Representatives by Geraldine R. Gennet, Kerry W. Kircher, and Michael L. Stern; for the Center for the Community Interest et al. by Daniel P. Collins, Kristin Linsley Myles, and Kelly M. Klaus; for the Center for the Original Intent of the Constitution by Michael P. Farris; for Citizens for Law and Order et al. by Theodore M. Cooperstein; for the Criminal Justice Legal Foundation by Kent S. Scheidegger, Charles L. Hobson, and Edwin Meese III; for the Federal Bureau of Investigation Agents Association by Robert F. Hoyt; for the Fraternal Order of Police by Patrick F. Philbin and Thomas T. Rutherford; for the National Association of Police Organizations et al. by Stephen R. McSpadden, Robert J. Cynkar, and Margaret A. Ryan; for the National District Attorneys Association et al. by Lynne Abraham, Ronald Eisenberg, Jeffrey C. Sullivan, John M. Tyson, Jr., Grover Trask, Christine A. Cooke, John B. Dangler, and Richard E. Trodden; for Former Attorneys General of the United States William P. Barr and Edwin Meese III by Andrew G. McBride; for Senator Orrin G. Hatch et al. by Senator Hatch, pro se; and for Manning & Marder, Kass, Ellrod, Ramirez by Davis J. Wilson.
Wayne W. Schmidt, James P. Manak, and Bernard J. Farber filed a brief for Americans for Effective Law Enforcement, Inc., et al. as amici curiae.
[2] While our cases have long interpreted the Due Process and SelfIncrimination Clauses to require that a suspect be accorded a fair trial free from coerced testimony, our application of those Clauses to the context of custodial police interrogation is relatively recent because the routine practice of such interrogation is itself a relatively new development. See, e. g., Miranda, 384 U. S., at 445-458.
[3] See also Davis v. United States, 512 U. S. 452, 457-458 (1994); Withrow v. Williams, 507 U. S. 680, 690-691 (1993) ("Miranda `s safeguards are not constitutional in character"); Duckworth v. Eagan, 492 U. S. 195, 203 (1989); Connecticut v. Barrett, 479 U. S. 523, 528 (1987) ("[T]he Miranda Court adopted prophylactic rules designed to insulate the exercise of Fifth Amendment rights"); Oregon v. Elstad, 470 U. S. 298, 306 (1985); Edwards v. Arizona, 451 U. S. 477, 492 (1981) (Powell, J., concurring in result).
[4] Our conclusion regarding Miranda `s constitutional basis is further buttressed by the fact that we have allowed prisoners to bring alleged Miranda violations before the federal courts in habeas corpus proceedings. See Thompson v. Keohane, 516 U. S. 99 (1995); Withrow, supra, at 690-695. Habeas corpus proceedings are available only for claims that a person "is in custody in violation of the Constitution or laws or treaties of the United States." 28 U. S. C. § 2254(a). Since the Miranda rule is clearly not based on federal laws or treaties, our decision allowing habeas review for Miranda claims obviously assumes that Miranda is of constitutional origin.
[5] See 384 U. S., at 445 ("The constitutional issue we decide in each of these cases is the admissibility of statements obtained from a defendant questioned while in custody"), 457 (stating that the Miranda Court was concerned with "adequate safeguards to protect precious Fifth Amendment rights"), 458 (examining the "history and precedent underlying the Self-Incrimination Clause to determine its applicability in this situation"), 476 ("The requirement of warnings and waiver of rights is . . . fundamental with respect to the Fifth Amendment privilege and not simply a preliminary ritual to existing methods of interrogation"), 479 ("The whole thrust of our foregoing discussion demonstrates that the Constitution has prescribed the rights of the individual when confronted with the power of government when it provided in the Fifth Amendment that an individual cannot be compelled to be a witness against himself"), 481, n. 52 (stating that the Court dealt with "constitutional standards in relation to statements made"), 490 ("[T]he issues presented are of constitutional dimensions and must be determined by the courts"), 489 (stating that the Miranda Court was dealing "with rights grounded in a specific requirement of the Fifth Amendment of the Constitution").
[6] Many of our subsequent cases have also referred to Miranda `s constitutional underpinnings. See, e. g., Withrow, supra, at 691 ("`Prophylactic' though it may be, in protecting a defendant's Fifth Amendment privilege against self-incrimination, Miranda safeguards a `fundamental trial right' "); Illinois v. Perkins, 496 U. S. 292, 296 (1990) (describing Miranda `s warning requirement as resting on "the Fifth Amendment privilege against self-incrimination"); Butler v. McKellar, 494 U. S. 407, 411 (1990) ("[T]he Fifth Amendment bars police-initiated interrogation following a suspect's request for counsel in the context of a separate investigation"); Michigan v. Jackson, 475 U. S. 625, 629 (1986) ("The Fifth Amendment protection against compelled self-incrimination provides the right to counsel at custodial interrogations"); Moran v. Burbine, 475 U. S. 412, 427 (1986) (referring to Miranda as "our interpretation of the Federal Constitution"); Edwards, supra, at 481-482.
[7] The Court of Appeals relied in part on our statement that the Miranda decision in no way "creates a `constitutional straightjacket.' " See 166 F. 3d 667, 672 (CA4 1999) (quoting Miranda, 384 U. S., at 467). However, a review of our opinion in Miranda clarifies that this disclaimer was intended to indicate that the Constitution does not require police to administer the particular Miranda warnings, not that the Constitution does not require a procedure that is effective in securing Fifth Amendment rights.
[8] Because no party to the underlying litigation argued in favor of § 3501's constitutionality in this Court, we invited Professor Paul Cassell to assist our deliberations by arguing in support of the judgment below.
[9] Various other contentions and suggestions have been pressed by the numerous amici, but because of the procedural posture of this case we do not think it appropriate to consider them. See United Parcel Service, Inc. v. Mitchell, 451 U. S. 56, 60, n. 2 (1981); Bell v. Wolfish, 441 U. S. 520, 531-532, n. 13 (1979); Knetsch v. United States, 364 U. S. 361, 370 (1960).
[10] As for Michigan v. Jackson, 475 U. S. 625 (1986), upon which petitioner and the United States also rely, in that case we extended to the Sixth Amendment, postindictment, context the Miranda -based prophylactic rule of Edwards v. Arizona, 451 U. S. 477 (1981), that the police cannot initiate interrogation after counsel has been requested. I think it less a separate instance of claimed judicial power to impose constitutional prophylaxis than a direct, logic-driven consequence of Miranda itself.
[11] The Court cites my dissenting opinion in Mitchell v. United States, 526 U. S. 314, 331-332 (1999), for the proposition that "the fact that a rule has found `wide acceptance in the legal culture' is `adequate reason not to overrule' it." Ante, at 443. But the legal culture is not the same as the "public's consciousness"; and unlike the rule at issue in Mitchell (prohibiting comment on a defendant's refusal to testify), Miranda has been continually criticized by lawyers, law enforcement officials, and scholars since its pronouncement (not to mention by Congress, as § 3501 shows). In Mitchell, moreover, the constitutional underpinnings of the earlier rule had not been demolished by subsequent cases.
9.2.4 Vega v. Tekoh (2022) 9.2.4 Vega v. Tekoh (2022)
Opinion
NOTICE: This opinion is subject to formal revision before publication in the preliminary print of the United States Reports. Readers are requested to notify the Reporter of Decisions, Supreme Court of the United States, Washington, D. C. 20543, of any typographical or other formal errors, in order that corrections may be made before the preliminary print goes to press.
SUPREME COURT OF THE UNITED STATES
Justice Alito delivered the opinion of the Court.
This case presents the question whether a plaintiff may sue a police officer under Rev. Stat. §1979, 42 U. S. C. §1983, based on the allegedly improper admission of an “un-Mirandized”1 statement in a criminal prosecution. The case arose out of the interrogation of respondent, Terence Tekoh, by petitioner, Los Angeles County Sheriff ’s Deputy Carlos Vega. Deputy Vega questioned Tekoh at his place of employment and did not give him a Miranda warning. Tekoh was prosecuted, and his confession was admitted into evidence, but the jury returned a verdict of not guilty. Tekoh then sued Vega under §1983, and the United States Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit held that the use of Tekoh’s un-Mirandized statement provided a valid basis for a §1983 claim against Vega. We now reject this extension of our Miranda case law.
I
In March 2014, Tekoh was working as a certified nursing assistant at a Los Angeles medical center. When a female patient accused him of sexually assaulting her, the hospital staff reported the accusation to the Los Angeles County Sheriff ’s Department, and Deputy Vega responded. Vega questioned Tekoh at length in the hospital, and Tekoh eventually provided a written statement apologizing for inappropriately touching the patient’s genitals. The parties dispute whether Vega used coercive investigatory techniques to extract the statement, but it is undisputed that he never informed Tekoh of his rights under Miranda v. Arizona, 384 U. S. 436 (1966), which held that during a custodial interrogation police officers must inform a suspect that “he has the right to remain silent, that anything he says can be used against him in a court of law, that he has the right to the presence of an attorney, and that if he cannot afford an attorney one will be appointed for him prior to any questioning.” Id., at 479.
Tekoh was arrested and charged in California state court with unlawful sexual penetration. At Tekoh’s first trial, the judge held that Miranda had not been violated because Tekoh was not in custody when he provided the statement, but the trial resulted in a mistrial. When Tekoh was retried, a second judge again denied his request to exclude the confession. This trial resulted in acquittal, and Tekoh then brought this action under 42 U. S. C. §1983 against Vega and several other defendants seeking damages for alleged violations of his constitutional rights, including his Fifth Amendment right against compelled self-incrimination.
When this §1983 case was . . . tried, . . . the jury was asked to decide whether Tekoh’s Fifth Amendment right had been violated. The court instructed the jury to determine, based on “the totality of all the surrounding circumstances,” whether Tekoh’s statement had been “improperly coerced or compelled,” and the court explained that “[a] confession is improperly coerced or compelled . . . if a police officer uses physical or psychological force or threats not permitted by law to undermine a person’s ability to exercise his or her free will.” App. to Pet. for Cert. 119a. The jury found in Vega’s favor, and Tekoh appealed.
A Ninth Circuit panel reversed, holding that the “use of an un-Mirandized statement against a defendant in a criminal proceeding violates the Fifth Amendment and may support a §1983 claim” against the officer who obtained the statement. Tekoh v. County of Los Angeles, 985 F. 3d 713, 722 (2021). The panel acknowledged that this Court has repeatedly said that Miranda adopted prophylactic rules designed to protect against constitutional violations and that the decision did not hold that the contravention of those rules necessarily constitutes a constitutional violation. See 985 F. 3d, at 719–720. But the panel thought that our decision in Dickerson v. United States, 530 U. S. 428 (2000), “made clear that the right of a criminal defendant against having an un-Mirandized statement introduced in the prosecution’s case in chief is indeed a right secured by the Constitution.” 985 F. 3d, at 720. Therefore the panel concluded that Tekoh could establish a violation of his Fifth Amendment right against compelled self-incrimination simply by showing that Miranda had been violated. See 985 F. 3d, at 720. The panel thus remanded the case for a new trial.
. . .
II
Section 1983 provides a cause of action against any person acting under color of state law who “subjects” a person or “causes [a person] to be subjected . . . to the deprivation of any rights, privileges, or immunities secured by the Constitution and laws.” The question we must decide is whether a violation of the Miranda rules provides a basis for a claim under §1983. We hold that it does not.
A
If a Miranda violation were tantamount to a violation of the Fifth Amendment, our answer would of course be different. The Fifth Amendment, made applicable to the States by the Fourteenth Amendment, Malloy v. Hogan, 378 U. S. 1, 6 (1964), provides that “[n]o person . . . shall be compelled in any criminal case to be a witness against himself.” This Clause “permits a person to refuse to testify against himself at a criminal trial in which he is a defendant” and “also ‘privileges him not to answer official questions put to him in any other proceeding, civil or criminal, formal or informal, where the answers might incriminate him in future criminal proceedings.’ ” Minnesota v. Murphy, 465 U. S. 420, 426 (1984) (quoting Lefkowitz v. Turley, 414 U. S. 70, 77 (1973)). In addition, the right bars the introduction against a criminal defendant of out-of-court statements obtained by compulsion. See, e.g., Bram v. United States, 168 U. S. 532, 565 (1897); Miranda, 384 U. S., at 466; Michigan v. Tucker, 417 U. S. 433, 440–442 (1974).
In Miranda, the Court concluded that additional procedural protections were necessary to prevent the violation of this important right when suspects who are in custody are interrogated by the police. To afford this protection, the Court required that custodial interrogation be preceded by the now-familiar warnings mentioned above, and it directed that statements obtained in violation of these new rules may not be used by the prosecution in its case-in-chief. 384 U. S., at 444, 479.
In this case, the Ninth Circuit held—and Tekoh now argues, Brief for Respondent 20—that a violation of Miranda constitutes a violation of the Fifth Amendment right against compelled self-incrimination, but that is wrong. Miranda itself and our subsequent cases make clear that Miranda imposed a set of prophylactic rules. Those rules, to be sure, are “constitutionally based,” Dickerson, 530 U. S., at 440, but they are prophylactic rules nonetheless.
B
Miranda itself was clear on this point. Miranda did not hold that a violation of the rules it established necessarily constitute a Fifth Amendment violation, and it is difficult to see how it could have held otherwise. For one thing, it is easy to imagine many situations in which an un- Mirandized suspect in custody may make self- incriminating statements without any hint of compulsion. In addition, the warnings that the Court required included components, such as notification of the right to have retained or appointed counsel present during questioning, that do not concern self-incrimination per se but are instead plainly designed to safeguard that right. And the same is true of Miranda’s detailed rules about the waiver of the right to remain silent and the right to an attorney. 384 U. S., at 474–479.
At no point in the opinion did the Court state that a violation of its new rules constituted a violation of the Fifth Amendment right against compelled self-incrimination. Instead, it claimed only that those rules were needed to safeguard that right during custodial interrogation. See id., at 439 (describing its rules as “procedures which assure that the individual is accorded his privilege under the Fifth Amendment”); id., at 444 (describing rules as “procedural safeguards”); id., at 457 (“appropriate safeguards”); id., at 458 (“adequate protective devices”); id., at 467 (“safeguards”).
In accordance with this understanding of the nature of the rules it imposed, the Miranda Court stated quite clearly that the Constitution did not itself require “adherence to any particular solution for the inherent compulsions of the interrogation process” and that its decision “in no way create[d] a constitutional straitjacket.” Ibid. The opinion added that its new rules might not be needed if Congress or the States adopted “other procedures which are at least as effective,” ibid., and the opinion suggested that there might not have been any actual Fifth Amendment violations in the four cases that were before the Court. See id., at 457 (“In these cases, we might not find the defendants’ statements to have been involuntary in traditional terms”). The Court could not have said any of these things if a violation of the Miranda rules necessarily constituted a violation of the Fifth Amendment.
Since Miranda, the Court has repeatedly described the rules it adopted as “prophylactic.” See Howes v.Fields, 565 U. S. 499, 507 (2012); J. D. B. v. North Carolina, 564 U. S. 261, 269 (2011); Maryland v.Shatzer, 559 U. S. 98, 103 (2010); Montejo v. Louisiana, 556 U. S. 778, 794 (2009); Davis v. United States, 512 U. S. 452, 458 (1994); Brecht v. Abrahamson, 507 U. S. 619, 629 (1993); Withrow v. Williams, 507 U. S. 680, 691 (1993); McNeil v. Wisconsin, 501 U. S. 171, 176 (1991); Michigan v. Harvey, 494 U. S. 344, 350 (1990); Duckworth v. Eagan, 492 U. S. 195, 203 (1989); Arizona v. Roberson, 486 U. S. 675, 681 (1988); Connecticut v. Barrett, 479 U. S. 523, 528 (1987); Oregon v. Elstad, 470 U. S. 298, 309 (1985); New York v. Quarles, 467 U. S. 649, 654 (1984); South Dakota v. Neville, 459 U. S. 553, 564, n. 15 (1983); United States v. Henry, 447 U. S. 264, 274 (1980); North Carolina v. Butler, 441 U. S. 369, 374 (1979); Brown v. Illinois, 422 U. S. 590, 600 (1975); Michigan v. Tucker, 417 U. S., at 439; and Michigan v. Payne, 412 U. S. 47, 53 (1973).2
C
After Miranda was handed down, the Court engaged in the process of charting the dimensions of these new prophylactic rules. As we would later spell out, this process entailed a weighing of the benefits and costs of any clarification of the rules’ scope. See Shatzer, 559 U. S., at 106 (“A judicially crafted rule is ‘justified only by reference to its prophylactic purpose,’ . . . and applies only where its benefits outweigh its costs”).
Some post-Miranda decisions found that the balance of interests justified restrictions that would not have been possible if Miranda represented an explanation of the meaning of the Fifth Amendment right as opposed to a set of rules designed to protect that right. For example, in Harris v. New York, 401 U. S. 222, 224–226 (1971), the Court held that a statement obtained in violation of Miranda could be used to impeach the testimony of a defendant, even though an involuntary statement obtained in violation of the Fifth Amendment could not have been employed in this way. . . .
. . .
But the Court distinguished police conduct that “abridge[s] [a person’s] constitutional privilege against compulsory self- incrimination” from conduct that “depart[s] only from the prophylactic standards later laid down by this Court in Miranda to safeguard that privilege.” 417 U. S., at 445–446. . . . Instead, the Court asked whether the Miranda rules’ prophylactic purposes justified the exclusion of the fruits of the violation, and after “balancing the interests involved,” it held that exclusion was not required. 417 U. S., at 447–452.
In New York v. Quarles, 467 U. S. 649, 654–657 (1984), the Court held that statements obtained in violation of Miranda need not be suppressed when the questioning is conducted to address an ongoing “public safety” concern. The Court reasoned that Miranda warnings are “ ‘not themselves rights protected by the Constitution’ ” and that “the need for answers to questions in a situation posing a threat to the public safety outweigh[ed] the need for the prophylactic rule.” 467 U. S., at 654, 657.
. . .
It is hard to see how these decisions could stand if a violation of Miranda constituted a violation of the Fifth Amendment.
D
While these decisions imposed limits on Miranda’s prophylactic rules, other decisions found that the balance of interests called for expansion.
. . .
[I]n Withrow v. Williams, 507 U. S. 680, the Court rejected an attempt to restrict Miranda’s application in collateral proceedings based on the reasoning in Stone v. Powell, 428 U. S. 465 (1976). In Stone, the Court had held that a defendant who has had a full and fair opportunity to seek suppression of evidence allegedly seized in violation of the Fourth Amendment may not obtain federal habeas relief on that ground, id., at 494–495, and in Withrow, a state prison warden argued that a similar rule should apply to a habeas petitioner who had been given an opportunity to litigate a Miranda claim at trial, see 507 U. S., at 688–690. Once again acknowledging that Miranda adopted prophylactic rules, the Court balanced the competing interests and found that the costs of adopting the warden’s argument outweighed any benefits. On the cost side, the Court noted that enforcing Miranda “safeguards ‘a fundamental trial right” and furthers “the correct ascertainment of guilt” at trial. 507 U. S., at 691–692. And on the other side, the Court found that the adoption of a Stone-like rule “would not significantly benefit the federal courts in their exercise of habeas jurisdiction, or advance the cause of federalism in any substantial way.” 507 U. S., at 693.
Thus, all the post-Miranda cases we have discussed acknowledged the prophylactic nature of the Mirandarules and engaged in cost-benefit analysis to define the scope of these prophylactic rules.
E
. . . [In Dickerson, t]he Court held that Congress could not abrogate Miranda by statute because Miranda was a “constitutional decision” that adopted a “constitutional rule,” 530 U. S., at 438–439, and the Court noted that these rules could not have been made applicable to the States if it did not have that status, see ibid.
At the same time, however, the Court made it clear that it was not equating a violation of the Miranda rules with an outright Fifth Amendment violation. For one thing, it reiterated Miranda’s observation that “the Constitution would not preclude legislative solutions that differed from the prescribed Miranda warnings but which were ‘at least as effective in apprising accused persons’ ” of their rights. 530 U. S., at 440 (quoting Miranda, 384 U. S., at 467).
Even more to the point, the Court rejected the dissent’s argument that §3501 could not be held unconstitutional unless “Miranda warnings are required by the Constitution, in the sense that nothing else will suffice to satisfy constitutional requirements.” 530 U. S., at 442. The Court’s answer, in substance, was that the Miranda rules, though not an explication of the meaning of the Fifth Amendment right, are rules that are necessary to protect that right (at least until a better alternative is found and adopted). See 530 U. S., at 441–443. Thus, in the words of the Dickerson Court, the Miranda rules are “constitutionally based” and have “constitutional underpinnings.” 530 U. S., at 440, and n. 5. But the obvious point of these formulations was to avoid saying that a Miranda violation is the same as a violation of the Fifth Amendment right.
What all this boils down to is basically as follows. The Miranda rules are prophylactic rules that the Court found to be necessary to protect the Fifth Amendment right against compelled self-incrimination. In that sense, Miranda was a “constitutional decision” and it adopted a “constitutional rule” because the decision was based on the Court’s judgment about what is required to safeguard that constitutional right. And when the Court adopts a constitutional prophylactic rule of this nature, Dickerson concluded, the rule has the status of a “La[w] of the United States” that is binding on the States under the Supremacy Clause 4 (as Mirandaimplicitly held, since three of the four decisions it reversed came from state court, 384 U. S., at 491–494, 497–499), and the rule cannot be altered by ordinary legislation.
This was a bold and controversial claim of authority,5 but we do not think that Dickerson can be understood any other way without (1) taking the insupportable position that a Miranda violation is tantamount to a violation of the Fifth Amendment, (2) calling into question the prior decisions that were predicated on the proposition that a Miranda violation is not the same as a constitutional violation, and (3) excising from the United States Reports a mountain of statements describing the Miranda rules as prophylactic.
Subsequent cases confirm that Dickerson did not upend the Court’s understanding of the Miranda rules as prophylactic. See, e.g., supra, at 6–7 (collecting post-Dickerson cases).
In sum, a violation of Miranda does not necessarily constitute a violation of the Constitution, and therefore such a violation does not constitute “the deprivation of [a] right . . . secured by the Constitution.” 42 U. S. C. §1983.
III
This conclusion does not necessarily dictate reversal because a §1983 claim may also be based on “the deprivation of any rights, privileges, or immunities secured by the . . . laws.” (Emphasis added.) It may thus be argued that the Miranda rules constitute federal “law” and that an abridgment of those rules can therefore provide the ground for a §1983 claim. But whatever else may be said about this argument,6 it cannot succeed unless Tekoh can persuade us that this “law” should be expanded to include the right to sue for damages under §1983.
As we have noted, “[a] judicially crafted” prophylactic rule should apply “only where its benefits outweigh its costs,” Shatzer, 559 U. S., at 106, and here, while the benefits of permitting the assertion of Mirandaclaims under §1983 would be slight, the costs would be substantial.
Miranda rests on a pragmatic judgment about what is needed to stop the violation at trial of the Fifth Amendment right against compelled self-incrimination. That prophylactic purpose is served by the suppression at trial of state ments obtained in violation of Miranda and by the application of that decision in other recognized contexts. Allowing the victim of a Miranda violation to sue a police officer for damages under §1983 would have little additional deterrent value, and permitting such claims would cause many problems.
Allowing a claim like Tekoh’s would disserve “judicial economy,” Parklane Hosiery Co. v. Shore, 439 U. S. 322, 326 (1979), by requiring a federal judge or jury to adjudicate a factual question (whether Tekoh was in custody when questioned) that had already been decided by a state court. This re-adjudication would not only be wasteful; it would undercut the “ ‘strong judicial policy against the creation of two conflicting resolutions’ ” based on the same set of facts. Heck v. Humphrey, 512 U. S. 477, 484 (1994). And it could produce “unnecessary friction” between the federal and state court systems by requiring the federal court entertaining the §1983 claim to pass judgment on legal and factual issues already settled in state court. See Preiser v. Rodriguez, 411 U. S. 475, 490–491 (1973).
Allowing §1983 suits based on Miranda claims could also present many procedural issues, such as whether a federal court considering a §1983 claim would owe any deference to a trial court’s factual findings; whether forfeiture and plain error rules carry over from the criminal trial; whether harmless-error rules apply; and whether civil damages are available in instances where the unwarned statement had no impact on the outcome of the criminal case.
We therefore refuse to extend Miranda in the way Tekoh requests. Miranda, Dickerson, and the other cases in that line provide sufficient protection for the Fifth Amendment right against compelled self-incrimination. “The identification of a Miranda violation and its consequences . . . ought to be determined at trial.” Chavez v. Martinez, 538 U. S. 760, 790 (2003) (Kennedy, J., concurring in part and dissenting in part). And except in unusual circumstances, the “exclusion of unwarned statements” should be “a complete and sufficient remedy.” Ibid.
* * *
Because a violation of Miranda is not itself a violation of the Fifth Amendment, and because we see no justification for expanding Miranda to confer a right to sue under §1983, the judgment of the Court of Appeals is reversed, and the case is remanded for further proceedings consistent with this opinion.
It is so ordered.
Justice Kagan, with whom Justice Breyer and Justice Sotomayor join, dissenting.
The Court’s decision in Miranda v. Arizona, 384 U. S. 436 (1966), affords well-known protections to suspects who are interrogated by police while in custody. Those protections derive from the Constitution: Dickerson v. United States tells us in no uncertain terms that Miranda is a “constitutional rule.” 530 U. S. 428, 444 (2000). And that rule grants a corresponding right: If police fail to provide the Miranda warnings to a suspect before interrogating him, then he is generally entitled to have any resulting confession excluded from his trial. See 384 U. S., at 478–479. From those facts, only one conclusion can follow—that Miranda’s protections are a “right[ ]” “secured by the Constitution” under the federal civil rights statute. Rev. Stat. §1979, 42 U. S. C. §1983. Yet the Court today says otherwise. It holds that Miranda is not a constitutional right enforceable through a §1983 suit. And so it prevents individuals from obtaining any redress when police violate their rights under Miranda. I respectfully dissent.
Miranda responded to problems stemming from the interrogation of suspects “incommunicado” and “in a police-dominated atmosphere.” Miranda, 384 U. S., at 445. In such an environment, Miranda said, there are “pressures” which may “compel [a suspect] to speak where he would not otherwise do so freely.” Id., at 467. And so Miranda found a “necessity for procedures which assure that the individual is accorded his” Fifth Amendment privilege “not to be compelled to incriminate himself.” Id., at 439. Miranda set out protocols (including the now-familiar warnings) that would safeguard the constitutional privilege against self-incrimination. See id., at 478–479. And Miranda held that if police failed to follow those requirements (without substituting equally effective ones), the prosecution could not use at trial a statement obtained from the interrogation. See id., at 479.
The question in this case is whether Miranda’s protections are a “right[ ]” that is “secured by the Constitution” within the meaning of §1983. If the answer is yes, then a person may sue a state actor who deprives him of the right. In past cases, the Court has given a broad construction to §1983’s broad language. See, e.g., Dennis v. Higgins, 498 U. S. 439, 443 (1991). Under §1983 (as elsewhere), a “right[ ]” is anything that creates specific “obligations binding on [a] governmental unit” that an individual may ask the judiciary to enforce. Id., at 449; see id., at 447, and n. 7. And the phrase “secured by the Constitution” also has a capacious meaning. It refers to any right that is “protect[ed] or ma[de] certain” by the country’s foundational charter. Hague v. Committee for Industrial Organization, 307 U. S. 496, 527 (1939) (opinion of Stone, J.) (internal quotation marks omitted).
Begin with whether Miranda is “secured by the Constitution.” We know that it is, because the Court’s decision in Dickerson says so. Dickerson tells us again and again that Miranda is a “constitutional rule.” 530 U. S., at 444. It is a “constitutional decision” that sets forth “ ‘concrete constitutional guidelines.’ ” Id., at 432, 435 (quoting Miranda, 384 U. S., at 442). Miranda “is constitutionally based”; or again, it has a “constitutional basis.” 530 U. S., at 439, n. 3, 440. It is “of constitutional origin”; it has “constitutional underpinnings.” Id., at 439, n. 3, 440, n. 5. And—one more—Miranda sets a “constitutional minimum.” 530 U. S., at 442. Over and over, Dickerson labels Miranda a rule stemming from the Constitution.
Dickerson also makes plain that Miranda has all the substance of a constitutional rule—including that it cannot be “abrogate[d]” by any “legislation.” Miranda, 384 U. S., at 491; see Dickerson, 530 U. S., at 437. In Dickerson, the Court considered a federal statute whose obvious purpose was to override Miranda. Dickerson held that Miranda is a “constitutional decision” that cannot be “overruled by” any “Act of Congress.” 530 U. S., at 432. To be sure, Congress may devise “legislative solutions that differ[ ] from the prescribed Miranda warnings,” but only if those solutions are “ ‘at least as effective.’ ” Id., at 440 (quoting Miranda, 384 U. S., at 467). Dickerson therefore instructs (as noted above) that Miranda sets a “constitutional minimum.” 530 U. S., at 442. No statute may provide lesser protection than that baseline.1*
And Dickerson makes clear that the constitutional substance of Miranda does not end there. Rules arising from “the United States Constitution” are applicable in state-court proceedings, but non-constitutional rules are not. See 530 U. S., at 438 (explaining that the Court “do[es] not hold a supervisory power over the courts of the several States”). Too, constitutional rules are enforceable in federal-court habeas proceedings, where a prisoner is entitled to claim he “is in custody in violation of the Constitution.” 28 U. S. C. §2254(a). Miranda checks both boxes. The Court has “consistently applied Miranda’s rule to prosecutions arising in state courts.” Dickerson, 530 U. S., at 438. And prisoners may claim Miranda violations in federal-court habeas proceedings. See 530 U. S., at 439, n. 3; Thompson v. Keohane, 516 U. S. 99, 107, n. 5 (1995). So Dickerson is unequivocal: Miranda is set in constitutional stone.
Miranda’s constitutional rule gives suspects a correlative “right[ ].” §1983. Under Miranda, a suspect typically has a right to be tried without the prosecutor using his un- Mirandized statement. And we know how that right operates in the real world. Suppose a defendant standing trial was able to show the court that he gave an un-Mirandized confession during a custodial interrogation. The court would have no choice but to exclude it from the prosecutor’s case. As one judge below put it: “Miranda indisputably creates individual legal rights that are judicially enforceable. (Any prosecutor who doubts this can try to introduce an un-Mirandized confession and then watch what happens.)” Tekoh v. County of Los Angeles, 997 F. 3d 1260, 1263 (CA9 2021) (Miller, J., concurring in denial of rehearing en banc).
The majority basically agrees with everything I’ve just explained. It concurs that, per Dickerson, Miranda “adopted a ‘constitutional rule.’ ” Ante, at 11 (quoting Dickerson, 530 U. S., at 439); see ante, at 12. How could it not? That Miranda is a constitutional rule is what Dickerson said (and said and said). The majority also agrees that Miranda “directed that statements obtained in violation of [its] rules may not be used by the prosecution in its case-in-chief ”—which is simply another way of saying that Miranda grants suspects a right to the exclusion of those statements from the prosecutor’s case. Ante, at 5.
So how does the majority hold that a violation of Miranda is not a “deprivation of [a] right[ ]” “secured by the Constitution”? §1983. How does it agree with my premises, but not my conclusion? The majority’s argument is that “a violation of Miranda does not necessarily constitute a violation of the Constitution,” because Miranda’s rules are “prophylactic.” Ante, at 13. The idea is that the Fifth Amendment prohibits the use only of statements obtained by compulsion, whereas Miranda excludes non-compelled statements too. See ante, at 4–5. That is why, the majority says, the Court has been able to recognize exceptions permitting certain uses of un-Mirandized statements at trial (when it could not do so for compelled statements). See ante, at 7–9.
But none of that helps the majority’s case. Let’s assume, as the majority says, that Miranda extends beyond—in order to safeguard—the Fifth Amendment’s core guarantee. Still, Miranda is enforceable through §1983. It remains a constitutional rule, as Dickerson held (and the majority agrees). And it grants the defendant a legally enforceable entitlement—in a word, a right—to have his confession excluded. So, to refer back to the language of §1983, Miranda grants a “right[ ]” “secured by the Constitution.” Whether that right to have evidence excluded safeguards a yet deeper constitutional commitment makes no difference to §1983. The majority has no response to that point—except to repeat what our argument assumes already. See ante, at 14, n. 6 (describing Miranda as prophylactic).
Compare the majority’s holding today to a prior decision, in which the Court “rejected [an] attempt[ ] to limit the types of constitutional rights that are encompassed within ” §1983. Dennis, 498 U. S., at 445. There, the Court held that a plaintiff could sue under §1983 for a violation of the so-called dormant Commerce Clause, which safeguards interstate commerce. To the Court, it did not matter that the Commerce Clause might be viewed as “merely allocat[ing] power between the Federal and State Governments” over interstate commerce, rather than as “confer[ring] ‘rights.’ ” Id., at 447. Nor did it matter that the dormant Commerce Clause’s protection is only “implied” by the constitutional text. Ibid., n. 7. The dormant Commerce Clause, the Court said, still provides a “right”—in the “ordinary” sense of being “ ‘[a] legally enforceable claim of one person against another.’ ” Ibid. (quoting Black’s Law Dictionary 1324 (6th ed. 1990)). That describes Miranda to a tee. And if a right implied from Congress’s constitutional authority over interstate commerce is enforceable under §1983, how could it be that Miranda—which the Court has found necessary to safeguard the personal protections of the Fifth Amendment—is not also enforceable? The majority again has no answer.
* * *
Today, the Court strips individuals of the ability to seek a remedy for violations of the right recognized in Miranda. The majority observes that defendants may still seek “the suppression at trial of statements obtained” in violation of Miranda’s procedures. Ante, at 14–15. But sometimes, such a statement will not be suppressed. And sometimes, as a result, a defendant will be wrongly convicted and spend years in prison. He may succeed, on appeal or in habeas, in getting the conviction reversed. But then, what remedy does he have for all the harm he has suffered? The point of §1983 is to provide such redress—because a remedy “is a vital component of any scheme for vindicating cherished constitutional guarantees.” Gomez v. Toledo, 446 U. S. 635, 639 (1980). The majority here, as elsewhere, injures the right by denying the remedy. See, e.g., Egbert v. Boule, 596 U. S. ___ (2022). I respectfully dissent.
9.2.5. Justin M. Burns & Brady R. Wilson, “Warning You of Your Right to Remain Silent is Not a Right After All,”
9.3 Part 2: Key terms 9.3 Part 2: Key terms
9.3.1 The meaning of "custody" 9.3.1 The meaning of "custody"
9.3.1.1 Berkemer v. McCarty (1984) 9.3.1.1 Berkemer v. McCarty (1984)
BERKEMER, SHERIFF OF FRANKLIN COUNTY, OHIO v. McCARTY
No. 83-710.
Argued April 18, 1984
Decided July 2, 1984
*422Marshall, J., delivered the opinion of the Court, in which Burger, C. J., and Brennan, White, Blackmun, Powell, Rehnquist, and O’Connor, JJ., joined. Stevens, J., filed an opinion concurring in part and concurring in the judgment, post, p. 445.
Alan C. Travis argued the cause for petitioner. With him on the briefs was Stephen Michael Miller.
R. William Meeks argued the cause for respondent. With him on the brief were Paul D. Cassidy, Lawrence Herman, and Joel A. Rosenfeld. *
delivered the opinion of the Court.
This case presents two related questions: First, does our decision in Miranda v. Arizona, 384 U. S. 436 (1966), govern the admissibility of statements made during custodial interrogation by a suspect accused of a misdemeanor traffic *423offense? Second, does the roadside questioning of a motorist detained pursuant to a traffic stop constitute custodial interrogation for the purposes of the doctrine enunciated in Miranda?
I
A
The parties have stipulated to the essential facts. See App. to Pet. for Cert. A-l. On the evening of March 31, 1980, Trooper Williams of the Ohio State Highway Patrol observed respondent’s car weaving in and out of a lane on Interstate Highway 270. After following the car for two miles, Williams forced respondent to stop and asked him to get out of the vehicle. When respondent complied, Williams noticed that he was having difficulty standing. At that point, “Williams concluded that [respondent] would be charged with a traffic offense and, therefore, his freedom to leave the scene was terminated.” Id., at A-2. However, respondent was not told that he would be taken into custody. Williams then asked respondent to perform a field sobriety test, commonly known as a “balancing test.” Respondent could not do so without falling.
While still at the scene of the traffic stop, Williams asked respondent whether he had been using intoxicants. Respondent replied that “he had consumed two beers and had smoked several joints of marijuana a short time before.” Ibid. Respondent’s speech was slurred, and Williams had difficulty understanding him. Williams thereupon formally placed respondent under arrest and transported him in the patrol car to the Franklin County Jail.
At the jail, respondent was given an intoxilyzer test to determine the concentration of alcohol in his blood.1 The test did not detect any alcohol whatsoever in respondent’s system. Williams then resumed questioning respondent *424in order to obtain information for inclusion in the State Highway Patrol Alcohol Influence Report. Respondent answered affirmatively a question whether he had been drinking. When then asked if he was under the influence of alcohol, he said, “I guess, barely.” Ibid. Williams next asked respondent to indicate on the form whether the marihuana he had smoked had been treated with any chemicals. In the section of the report headed “Remarks,” respondent wrote, “No ang[el] dust or PCP in the pot. Rick McCarty.” App. 2.
At no point in this sequence of events did Williams or anyone else tell respondent that he had a right to remain silent, to consult with an attorney, and to have an attorney appointed for him if he could not afford one.
B
Respondent was charged with operating a motor vehicle while under the influence of alcohol and/or drugs in violation of Ohio Rev. Code Ann. §4511.19 (Supp. 1983). Under Ohio law, that offense is a first-degree misdemeanor and is punishable by fine or imprisonment for up to six months. § 2929.21 (1982). Incarceration for a minimum of three days is mandatory. §4511.99 (Supp. 1983).
Respondent moved to exclude the various incriminating statements he had made to Trooper Williams on the ground that introduction into evidence of those statements would violate the Fifth Amendment insofar as he had not been informed of his constitutional rights prior to his interrogation. When the trial court denied the motion, respondent pleaded “no contest” and was found guilty.2 He was sentenced to 90 *425days in jail, 80 of which were suspended, and was fined $300, $100 of which were suspended.
On appeal to the Franklin County Court of Appeals, respondent renewed his constitutional claim. Relying on a prior decision by the Ohio Supreme Court, which held that the rule announced in Miranda “is not applicable to misdemeanors,” State v. Pyle, 19 Ohio St. 2d 64, 249 N. E. 2d 826 (1969), cert. denied, 396 U. S. 1007 (1970), the Court of Appeals rejected respondent’s argument and affirmed his conviction. State v. McCarty, No. 80AP-680 (Mar. 10, 1981). The Ohio Supreme Court dismissed respondent’s appeal on the ground that it failed to present a “substantial constitutional question.” State v. McCarty, No. 81-710 (July 1, 1981).
Respondent then filed an action for a writ of habeas corpus in the District Court for the Southern District of Ohio.3 The District Court dismissed the petition, holding that “Miranda warnings do not have to be given prior to in custody interrogation of a suspect arrested for a traffic offense.” McCarty v. Herdman, No. C-2-81-1118 (Dec. 11, 1981).
A divided panel of the Court of Appeals for the Sixth Circuit reversed, holding that “Miranda warnings must be given to all individuals prior to custodial interrogation, whether the offense investigated be a felony or a misdemeanor traffic offense.” McCarty v. Herdman, 716 F. 2d 361, 363 (1983) (emphasis in original). In applying this principle to the facts of the case, the Court of Appeals distinguished between the statements made by respondent before and after his formal arrest.4 The postarrest statements, the court ruled, were *426plainly inadmissible; because respondent was not warned of his constitutional rights prior to or “[a]t the point that Trooper Williams took [him] to the police station,” his ensuing admissions could not be used against him. Id., at 364. The court’s treatment of respondent’s prearrest statements was less clear. It eschewed a holding that “the mere stopping of a motor vehicle triggers Miranda,” ibid., but did not expressly rule that the statements made by respondent at the scene of the traffic stop could be used against him. In the penultimate paragraph of its opinion, the court asserted that “[t]he failure to advise [respondent] of his constitutional rights rendered at least some of his statements inadmissible,” ibid, (emphasis added), suggesting that the court was uncertain as to the status of the prearrest confessions.5 “Because [respondent] was convicted on inadmissible evidence,” the court deemed it necessary to vacate his conviction and order the District Court to issue a writ of habeas corpus. Ibid. 6 However, the Court of Appeals did not specify which statements, if any, could be used against respondent in a retrial.
We granted certiorari to resolve confusion in the federal and state courts regarding the applicability of our ruling in *427 Miranda to interrogations involving minor offenses7 and to questioning of motorists detained pursuant to traffic stops.8 464 U. S. 1038 (1984).
*428II
The Fifth Amendment provides: “No person . . . shall be compelled in any criminal case to be a witness against himself . . . .” It is settled that this provision governs state as well as federal criminal proceedings. Malloy v. Hogan, 378 U. S. 1, 8 (1964).
In Miranda v. Arizona, 384 U. S. 436 (1966), the Court addressed the problem of how the privilege against compelled self-incrimination guaranteed by the Fifth Amendment could be protected from the coercive pressures that can be brought to bear upon a suspect in the context of custodial interrogation. The Court held:
“[T]he prosecution may not use statements, whether exculpatory or inculpatory, stemming from custodial interrogation of [a] defendant unless it demonstrates the use of procedural safeguards effective to secure the privilege against self-incrimination. By custodial interrogation, we mean questioning initiated by law enforcement officers after a person has been taken into custody or otherwise deprived of his freedom of action in any significant way. As for the procedural safeguards to be employed, unless other fully effective means are devised to inform accused persons of their right of silence and to assure a continuous opportunity to exercise it, the *429following measures are required. Prior to any questioning, the person must be warned that he has a right to remain silent, that any statement he does make may be used as evidence against him, and that he has a right to the presence of an attorney, either retained or appointed.” Id., at 444 (footnote omitted).
In the years since the decision in Miranda, we have frequently reaffirmed the central principle established by that case: if the police take a suspect into custody and then ask him questions without informing him of the rights enumerated above, his responses cannot be introduced into evidence to establish his guilt.9 See, e. g., Estelle v. Smith, 451 U. S. 454, 466-467 (1981); Rhode Island v. Innis, 446 U. S. 291, 297-298 (1980) (dictum); Orozco v. Texas, 394 U. S. 324, 326-327 (1969); Mathis v. United States, 391 U. S. 1, 3-5 (1968).10
Petitioner asks us to carve an exception out of the foregoing principle. When the police arrest a person for allegedly committing a misdemeanor traffic offense and then ask him questions without telling him his constitutional rights, petitioner argues, his responses should be admissible against him.11 We cannot agree.
*430One of the principal advantages of the doctrine that suspects must be given warnings before being interrogated while in custody is the clarity of that rule.
“Miranda’s holding has the virtue of informing police and prosecutors with specificity as to what they may do in conducting custodial interrogation, and of informing courts under what circumstances statements obtained during such interrogation are not admissible. This gain in specificity, which benefits the accused and the State alike, has been thought to outweigh the burdens that the decision in Miranda imposes on law enforcement agencies and the courts by requiring the suppression of trustworthy and highly probative evidence even though the confession might be voluntary under traditional Fifth Amendment analysis.” Fare v. Michael C., 442 U. S. 707, 718 (1979).
The exception to Miranda proposed by petitioner would substantially undermine this crucial advantage of the doctrine. The police often are unaware when they arrest a person whether he may have committed a misdemeanor or a felony. Consider, for example, the reasonably common situation in which the driver of a car involved in an accident is taken into custody. Under Ohio law, both driving while under the influence of intoxicants and negligent vehicular homicide are misdemeanors, Ohio Rev. Code Ann. §§2903.07, 4511.99 (Supp. 1983), while reckless vehicular homicide is a felony, §2903.06 (Supp. 1983). When arresting a person for causing a collision, the police may not know which of these offenses he may have committed. Indeed, the nature of his offense may depend upon circumstances unknowable to the police, such as whether the suspect has previously committed *431a similar offense12 or has a criminal record of some other kind. It may even turn upon events yet to happen, such as whether a victim of the accident dies. It would be unreasonable to expect the police to make guesses as to the nature of the criminal conduct at issue before deciding how they may interrogate the suspect.13
Equally importantly, the doctrinal complexities that would confront the courts if we accepted petitioner’s proposal would be Byzantine. Difficult questions quickly spring to mind: For instance, investigations into seemingly minor offenses sometimes escalate gradually into investigations into more serious matters;14 at what point in the evolution of an affair of this sort would the police be obliged to give Miranda warnings to a suspect in custody? What evidence would be necessary to establish that an arrest for a misdemeanor offense *432was merely a pretext to enable the police to interrogate the suspect (in hopes of obtaining information about a felony) without providing him the safeguards prescribed by Miranda'?15 The litigation necessary to resolve such matters would be time-consuming and disruptive of law enforcement. And the end result would be an elaborate set of rules, interlaced with exceptions and subtle distinctions, discriminating between different kinds of custodial interrogations.16 Neither the police nor criminal defendants would benefit from such a development.
Absent a compelling justification we surely would be unwilling so seriously to impair the simplicity and clarity of the holding of Miranda. Neither of the two arguments proffered by petitioner constitutes such a justification. Petitioner first contends that Miranda warnings are unnecessary when a suspect is questioned about a misdemeanor traffic offense, because the police have no reason to subject such a suspect to the sort of interrogation that most troubled the Court in Miranda. We cannot agree that the dangers of police abuse are so slight in this context. For example, the offense of driving while intoxicated is increasingly regarded in many jurisdictions as a very serious matter.17 Especially when the intoxicant at issue is a narcotic drug rather than alcohol, the police sometimes have difficulty obtaining evi- ' dence of this crime. Under such circumstances, the incentive for the police to try to induce the defendant to incrimi*433nate himself may well be substantial. Similar incentives are likely to be present when a person is arrested for a minor offense but the police suspect that a more serious crime may have been committed. See supra, at 431-432.
We do not suggest that there is any reason to think improper efforts were made in this case to induce respondent to make damaging admissions. More generally, we have no doubt that, in conducting most custodial interrogations of persons arrested for misdemeanor traffic offenses, the police behave responsibly and do not deliberately exert pressures upon the suspect to confess against his will. But the same might be said of custodial interrogations of persons arrested for felonies. The purposes of the safeguards prescribed by Miranda are to ensure that the police do not coerce or trick captive suspects into confessing,18 to relieve the “‘inherently compelling pressures’” generated by the custodial setting itself, “‘which work to undermine the individual’s will to resist,’ ”19 and as much as possible to free courts from the task of scrutinizing individual cases to try to determine, after the fact, whether particular confessions were voluntary.20 Those purposes are implicated as much by in-custody questioning of persons suspected of misdemeanors as they are by questioning of persons suspected of felonies.
*434Petitioner’s second argument is that law enforcement would be more expeditious and effective in the absence of a requirement that persons arrested for traffic offenses be informed of their rights. Again, we are unpersuaded. The occasions on which the police arrest and then interrogate someone suspected only of a misdemeanor traffic offense are rare. The police are already well accustomed to giving Miranda warnings to persons taken into custody. Adherence to the principle that all suspects must be given such warnings will not significantly hamper the efforts of the police to investigate crimes.
We hold therefore that a person subjected to custodial interrogation is entitled to the benefit of the procedural safeguards enunciated in Miranda, 21 regardless of the nature or severity of the offense of which he is suspected or for which he was arrested.
The implication of this holding is that the Court of Appeals was correct in ruling that the statements made by respondent at the County Jail were inadmissible. There can be no question that respondent was “in custody” at least as of the moment he was formally placed under arrest and instructed to get into the police car. Because he was not informed of *435his constitutional rights at that juncture, respondent’s subsequent admissions should not have been used against him.
h — I > — ! 1 — t
To assess the admissibility of the self-incriminating statements made by respondent prior to his formal arrest, we are obliged to address a second issue concerning the scope of our decision in Miranda: whether the roadside questioning of a motorist detained pursuant to a routine traffic stop should be considered “custodial interrogation.” Respondent urges that it should,22 on the ground that Miranda by its terms applies whenever “a person has been taken into custody or otherwise deprived of his freedom of action in any significant way,” 384 U. S., at 444 (emphasis added); see id., at 467.23 *436Petitioner contends that a holding that every detained motorist must be advised of his rights before being questioned would constitute an unwarranted extension of the Miranda doctriné.
It must be acknowledged at the outset that a traffic stop significantly curtails the “freedom of action” of the driver and the passengers, if any, of the detained vehicle. Under the law of most States, it is a crime either to ignore a policeman’s signal to stop one’s car or, once having stopped, to drive away without permission. E. g., Ohio Rev. Code Ann. §4511.02 (1982).24 Certainly few motorists would feel free either to disobey a directive to pull over or to leave the scene of a traffic stop without being told they might do so.25 Partly for these reasons, we have long acknowledged that “stopping an automobile and detaining its occupants constitute a ‘sei*437zure’ within the meaning of [the Fourth] Amendment], even though the purpose of the stop is limited and the resulting detention quite brief.” Delaware v. Prouse, 440 U. S. 648, 663 (1979) (citations omitted).
However, we decline to accord talismanic power to the phrase in the Miranda opinion emphasized by respondent. Fidelity to the doctrine announced in Miranda requires that it be enforced strictly, but only in those types of situations in which the concerns that powered the decision are implicated. Thus, we must decide whether a traffic stop exerts upon a detained person pressures that sufficiently impair his free exercise of his privilege against self-incrimination to require that he be warned of his constitutional rights.
Two features of an ordinary traffic stop mitigate the danger that a person questioned will be induced “to speak where he would not otherwise do so freely,” Miranda v. Arizona, 384 U. S., at 467. First, detention of a motorist pursuant to a traffic stop is presumptively temporary and brief. The vast majority of roadside detentions last only a few minutes. A motorist’s expectations, when he sees a policeman’s fight flashing behind him, are that he will be obliged to spend a short period of time answering questions and waiting while the officer checks his license and registration, that he may then be given a citation, but that in the end he most likely will be allowed to continue on his way.26 In this respect, *438questioning incident to an ordinary traffic stop is quite different from stationhouse interrogation, which frequently is prolonged, and in which the detainee often is aware that questioning will continue until he provides his interrogators the answers they seek. See id., at 451.27
Second, circumstances associated with the typical traffic stop are not such that the motorist feels completely at the mercy of the police. To be sure, the aura of authority surrounding an armed, uniformed officer and the knowledge that the officer has some discretion in deciding whether to issue a citation, in combination, exert some pressure on the detainee to respond to questions. But other aspects of the situation substantially offset these forces. Perhaps most importantly, the typical traffic stop is public, at least to some degree. Passersby, on foot or in other cars, witness the interaction of officer and motorist. This exposure to public view both reduces the ability of an unscrupulous policeman to use illegitimate means to elicit self-incriminating statements and diminishes the motorist’s fear that, if he does not cooperate, he will be subjected to abuse. The fact that the detained motorist typically is confronted by only one or at most two policemen further mutes his sense of vulnerability. In short, the atmo*439sphere surrounding an ordinary traffic stop is substantially less “police dominated” than that surrounding the kinds of interrogation at issue in Miranda itself, see 384 U. S., at 445, 491-498, and in the subsequent cases in which we have applied Miranda. 28
In both of these respects, the usual traffic stop is more analogous to a so-called “Terry stop,” see Terry v. Ohio, 392 U. S. 1 (1968), than to a formal arrest.29 Under the Fourth Amendment, we have held, a policeman who lacks probable cause but whose “observations lead him reasonably to suspect” that a particular person has committed, is committing, or is about to commit a crime, may detain that person briefly30 in order to “investigate the circumstances that provoke suspicion.” United States v. Brignoni-Ponce, 422 U. S. 873, 881 (1975). “[T]he stop and inquiry must be ‘reasonably related in scope to the justification for their initiation.’” Ibid, (quoting Terry v. Ohio, supra, at 29.) Typically, this means that the officer may ask the detainee a moderate number of questions to determine his identity and to try to obtain information confirming or dispelling the officer’s suspicions. But the detainee is not obliged to respond. And, unless the detainee’s answers provide the officer with probable cause to arrest him,31 he must then be *440released.32 The comparatively nonthreatening character of detentions of this sort explains the absence of any suggestion in our opinions that Terry stops are subject to the dictates of Miranda. The similarly noncoercive aspect of ordinary traffic stops prompts us to hold that persons temporarily detained pursuant to such stops are not “in custody” for the purposes of Miranda.
Respondent contends that to “exempt” traffic stops from the coverage of Miranda will open the way to widespread abuse. Policemen will simply delay formally arresting detained motorists, and will subject them to sustained and intimidating interrogation at the scene of their initial detention. Cf. State v. Roberti, 293 Ore. 59, 95, 644 P. 2d 1104, 1125 (1982) (Linde, J., dissenting) (predicting the emergence of a rule that “a person has not been significantly deprived of freedom of action for Miranda purposes as long as he is in his own car, even if it is surrounded by several patrol cars and officers with drawn weapons”), withdrawn on rehearing, 293 Ore. 236, 646 P. 2d 1341 (1982), cert. pending, No. 82-315. The net result, respondent contends, will be a serious threat to the rights that the Miranda doctrine is designed to protect.
We are confident that the state of affairs projected by respondent will not come to pass. It is settled that the safeguards prescribed by Miranda become applicable as soon as a suspect’s freedom of action is curtailed to a “degree associated with formal arrest.” California v. Beheler, 463 U. S. 1121, 1125 (1983) (per curiam). If a motorist who has been detained pursuant to a traffic stop thereafter is subjected to treatment that renders him “in custody” for practical purposes, he will be entitled to the full panoply of protections prescribed by Miranda. See Oregon v. Mathiason, 429 U. S. 492, 495 (1977) (per curiam).
*441Admittedly, our adherence to the doctrine just recounted will mean that the police and lower courts will continue occasionally to have difficulty deciding exactly when a suspect has been taken into custody. Either a rule that Miranda applies to all traffic stops or a rule that a suspect need not be advised of his rights until he is formally placed under arrest would provide a clearer, more easily administered line. However, each of these two alternatives has drawbacks that make it unacceptable. The first would substantially impede the enforcement of the Nation’s traffic laws — by compelling the police either to take the time to warn all detained motorists of their constitutional rights or to forgo use of self-incriminating statements made by those motorists — while doing little to protect citizens’ Fifth Amendment rights.33 The second would enable the police to circumvent the constraints on custodial interrogations established by Miranda.
Turning to the case before us, we find nothing in the record that indicates that respondent should have been given Miranda warnings at any point prior to the time Trooper Williams placed him under arrest. For the reasons indicated above, we reject the contention that the initial stop of respondent’s car, by itself, rendered him “in custody.” And respondent has failed to demonstrate that, at any time between the initial stop and the arrest, he was subjected to restraints comparable to those associated with a formal arrest. Only a short period of time elapsed between the stop and the arrest.34 At no point during that interval was respondent *442informed that his detention would not be temporary. Although Trooper Williams apparently decided as soon as respondent stepped out of his car that respondent would be taken into custody and charged with a traffic offense, Williams never communicated his intention to respondent. A policeman’s unarticulated plan has no bearing on the question whether a suspect was “in custody” at a particular time; the only relevant inquiry is how a reasonable man in the suspect’s position would have understood his situation.35 Nor do other aspects of the interaction of Williams and respondent support the contention that respondent was exposed to “custodial interrogation” at the scene of the stop. From aught that appears in the stipulation of facts, a single police officer asked respondent a modest number of questions and requested him to perform a simple balancing test at a location visible to passing motorists.36 Treatment of this sort cannot fairly be characterized as the functional equivalent of formal arrest.
We conclude, in short, that respondent was not taken into custody for the purposes of Miranda until Williams arrested him. Consequently, the statements respondent made prior to that point were admissible against him.
IV
We are left with the question of the appropriate remedy. In his brief, petitioner contends that, if we agree with the *443Court of Appeals that respondent’s postarrest statements should have been suppressed but conclude that respondent’s prearrest statements were admissible, we should reverse the Court of Appeals’ judgment on the ground that the state trial court’s erroneous refusal to exclude the postarrest admissions constituted “harmless error” within the meaning of Chapman v. California, 386 U. S. 18 (1967). Relying on Milton v. Wainwright, 407 U. S. 371 (1972), petitioner argues that the statements made by respondent at the police station “were merely recitations of what respondent had already admitted at the scene of the traffic arrest” and therefore were unnecessary to his conviction. Brief for Petitioner 25. We reject this proposed disposition of the case for three cumulative reasons.
First, the issue of harmless error was not presented to any of the Ohio courts, to the District Court, or to the Court of Appeals.37 Though, when reviewing a judgment of a federal court, we have jurisdiction to consider an issue not raised below, see Carlson v. Green, 446 U. S. 14, 17, n. 2 (1980), we are generally reluctant to do so, Adickes v. S. H. Kress & Co., 398 U. S. 144, 147, n. 2 (1970).38
Second, the admissions respondent made at the scene of the traffic stop and the statements he made at the police station were not identical. Most importantly, though respondent at the scene admitted having recently drunk beer and smoked marihuana, not until questioned at the station did he *444acknowledge being under the influence of intoxicants, an essential element of the crime for which he was convicted.39 This fact assumes significance in view of the failure of the intoxilyzer test to discern any alcohol in his blood.
Third, the case arises in a procedural posture that makes the use of harmless-error analysis especially difficult.40 This is not a case in which a defendant, after denial of a suppression motion, is given a full trial resulting in his conviction. Rather, after the trial court ruled that all of respondent’s self-incriminating statements were admissible, respondent elected not to contest the prosecution’s case against him, while preserving his objection to the denial of his pretrial motion.41 As a result, respondent has not yet had an opportunity to try to impeach the State’s evidence or to present evidence of his own. For example; respondent alleges that, at the time of his arrest, he had an injured back and a limp42 and that those ailments accounted for his difficulty getting out of the car and performing the balancing test; because he pleaded “no contest,” he never had a chance to make that argument to a jury. It is difficult enough, on the basis of a complete record of a trial and the parties’ contentions regarding the relative importance of each portion of the evidence presented, to determine whether the erroneous admission of particular material affected the outcome. Without the benefit of such a record in this case, we decline to rule that *445the trial court’s refusal to suppress respondent’s postarrest statements “was harmless beyond a reasonable doubt.” See Chapman v. California, 386 U. S., at 24.
Accordingly, the judgment of the Court of Appeals is
Affirmed.
concurring in part and concurring in the judgment.
The only question presented by the petition for certiorari reads as follows:
“Whether law enforcement officers must give ‘Miranda warnings’ to individuals arrested for misdemeanor traffic offenses.”
In Parts I, II, and IV of its opinion, the Court answers that question in the affirmative and explains why that answer requires that the judgment of the Court of Appeals be affirmed. Part III of the Court’s opinion is written for the purpose of discussing the admissibility of statements made by respondent “prior to his formal arrest,” see ante, at 435. That discussion is not necessary to the disposition of the case, nor necessary to answer the only question presented by the cer-tiorari petition. Indeed, the Court of Appeals quite properly did not pass on the question answered in Part III since it was entirely unnecessary to the judgment in this case. It thus wisely followed the cardinal rule that a court should not pass on a constitutional question in advance of the necessity of deciding it. See, e. g., Ashwander v. TV A, 297 U. S. 288, 346 (1936) (Brandeis, J., concurring).
Lamentably, this Court fails to follow the course of judicial restraint that we have set for the entire federal judiciary. In this case, it appears the reason for reaching out to decide a question not passed upon below and unnecessary to the judgment is that the answer to the question upon which we granted review is so clear under our settled precedents that the majority — its appetite for deciding constitutional ques*446tions only whetted — is driven to serve up a more delectable issue to satiate it. I had thought it clear, however, that no matter how interesting or potentially important a determination on a question of constitutional law may be, “broad considerations of the appropriate exercise of judicial power prevent such determinations unless actually compelled by the litigation before the Court.” Barr v. Matteo, 355 U. S. 171, 172 (1957) (per curiam). Indeed, this principle of restraint grows in importance the more problematic the constitutional issue is. See New York v. Uplinger, 467 U. S. 246, 251 (1984) (Stevens, J., concurring).
Because I remain convinced that the Court should abjure the practice of reaching out to decide cases on the broadest grounds possible, e. g., United States v. Doe, 465 U. S. 605, 619-620 (1984) (Stevens, J., concurring in part and dissenting in part); Grove City College v. Bell, 465 U. S. 555, 579 (1984) (Stevens, J., concurring in part and concurring in result); Colorado v. Nunez, 465 U. S. 324, 327-328 (1984) (Stevens, J., concurring); United States v. Gouveia, 467 U. S. 180, 193 (1984) (Stevens, J., concurring in judgment); Firefighters v. Stotts, 467 U. S. 561, 590-591 (1984) (Stevens, J., concurring in judgment); see also, University of California Regents v. Bakke, 438 U. S. 265, 411-412 (1978) (Stevens, J., concurring in judgment in part and dissenting in part); Monell v. New York City Dept. of Social Services, 436 U. S. 658, 714 (1978) (Stevens, J., concurring in part); cf. Snepp v. United States, 444 U. S. 507, 524-525 (1980) (Stevens, J., dissenting), I do not join Part III of the Court’s opinion.
9.3.1.2 J. D. B. v. North Carolina (2011) 9.3.1.2 J. D. B. v. North Carolina (2011)
J. D. B. v. NORTH CAROLINA
No. 09-11121.
Argued March 23, 2011
Decided June 16, 2011
*263 Barbara S. Blackman argued the cause for petitioner. With her on the briefs were S. Hannah Demeritt, Benjamin Dowling-Sendor, and Staples S. Hughes.
Roy Cooper, Attorney General of North Carolina, argued the cause for respondent. With him on the brief were Christopher G. Browning, Jr., Solicitor General, Robert C. Montgomery, Special Deputy Attorney General, and LaToya B. Powell, Assistant Attorney General.
*264 Eric J. Feigin argued the cause for the United States as amicus curiae urging affirmance. With him on the brief were Acting Solicitor General Katyal, Assistant Attorney General Breuer, Deputy Solicitor General Dreeben, and William C. Brown *
delivered the opinion of the Court.
This case presents the question whether the age of a child subjected to police questioning is relevant to the custody-analysis of Miranda v. Arizona, 384 U. S. 436 (1966). It is beyond dispute that children will often feel bound to submit to police questioning when an adult in the same cireum-*265stances would feel free to leave. Seeing no reason for police officers or courts to blind themselves to that commonsense reality, we hold that a child’s age properly informs the Miranda custody analysis.
I
A
Petitioner J. D. B. was a 13-year-old, seventh-grade student attending class at Smith Middle School in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, when he was removed from his classroom by a uniformed police officer, escorted to a closed-door conference room, and questioned by police for at least half an hour.
This was the second time that police questioned J. D. B. in the span of a week. Five days earlier, two home break-ins occurred, and various items were stolen. Police stopped and questioned J. D. B. after he was seen behind a residence in the neighborhood where the crimes occurred. That same day, police also spoke to J. D. B.’s grandmother — his legal guardian — as well as his aunt.
Police later learned that a digital camera matching the description of one of the stolen items had been found at J. D. B.’s middle school and seen in J. D. B.’s possession. Investigator DiCostanzo, the juvenile investigator with the local police force who had been assigned to the case, went to the school to question J. D. B. Upon arrival, DiCostanzo informed the uniformed police officer on detail to the school (a so-called school resource officer), the assistant principal, and an administrative intern that he was there to question J. D. B. about the break-ins. Although DiCostanzo asked the school administrators to verify J. D. B.’s date of birth, address, and parent contact information from school records, neither the police officers nor the school administrators contacted J. D. B.’s grandmother.
The uniformed officer interrupted J. D. B.’s afternoon social studies class, removed J. D. B. from the classroom, and *266escorted him to a school conference room.1 There, J. D. B. was met by DiCostanzo, the assistant principal, and the administrative intern. The door to the conference room was closed. With the two police officers and the two administrators present, J. D. B. was questioned for the next 30 to 45 minutes. Prior to the commencement of questioning, J. D. B. was given neither Miranda warnings nor the opportunity to speak to his grandmother. Nor was he informed that he was free to leave the room.
Questioning began with small talk — discussion of sports and J. D. B.’s family life. DiCostanzo asked, and J. D. B. agreed, to discuss the events of the prior weekend. Denying any wrongdoing, J. D. B. explained that he had been in the neighborhood where the crimes occurred because he was seeking work mowing lawns. DiCostanzo pressed J. D. B. for additional detail about his efforts to obtain work; asked J. D. B. to explain a prior incident, when one of the victims returned home to find J. D. B. behind her house; and confronted J. D. B. with the stolen camera. The assistant principal urged J. D. B. to “do the right thing,” warning J.' D. B. that “the truth always comes out in the end.” App. 99a, 112a.
Eventually, J. D. B. asked whether he would “still be in trouble” if he returned the “stuff.” Ibid. In response, DiCostanzo explained that return of the stolen items would be helpful, but “this thing is going to court” regardless. Id., at 112a; ibid. (“[WJhat’s done is done[;] now you need to help yourself by making it right”); see also id., at 99a. DiCos-tanzo then warned that he may need to seek a secure custody order if he believed that J. D. B. would continue to break into other homes. When J. D. B. asked what a secure custody *267order was, DiCostanzo explained that “it’s where you get sent to juvenile detention before court.” Id,, at 112a.
After learning of the prospect of juvenile detention, J. D. B. confessed that he and a friend were responsible for the break-ins. DiCostanzo only then informed J. D. B. that he could refuse to answer the investigator’s questions and that he was free to leave.2 Asked whether he understood, J. D. B. nodded and provided further detail, including information about the location of the stolen items. Eventually J. D. B. wrote a statement, at DiCostanzo’s request. When the bell rang indicating the end of the schoolday, J. D. B. was allowed to leave to catch the bus home.
B
Two juvenile petitions were filed against J. D. B., each alleging one count of breaking and entering and one count of larceny. J. D. B.’s public defender moved to suppress his statements and the evidence derived therefrom, arguing that suppression was necessary because J. D. B. had been “interrogated by police in a custodial setting without being afforded Miranda warning[s],” id., at 89a, and because his *268statements were involuntary under the totality of the circumstances test, id., at 142a; see Schneckloth v. Bustamonte, 412 U. S. 218, 226 (1973) (due process precludes admission of a confession where “a defendant’s will was overborne” by the circumstances of the interrogation). After a suppression hearing at which DiCostanzo and J. D. B. testified, the trial court denied the motion, deciding that J. D. B. was not in custody at the time of the schoolhouse interrogation and that his statements were voluntary. As a result, J. D. B. entered a transcript of admission to all four counts, renewing his objection to the denial of his motion to suppress, and the court adjudicated J. D. B. delinquent.
A divided panel of the North Carolina Court of Appeals affirmed. In re J. D. B., 196 N. C. App. 234, 674 S. E. 2d 795 (2009). The North Carolina Supreme Court held, over two dissents, that J. D. B. was not in custody when he confessed, “declin[ing] to extend the test for custody to include consideration of the age ... of an individual subjected to questioning by police.” In re J. D. B., 363 N. C. 664, 672, 686 S. E. 2d 135, 140 (2009).3
We granted certiorari to determine whether the Miranda custody analysis includes consideration of a juvenile suspect’s age. 562 U. S. 1001 (2010).
I — t t-H
A
Any police interview of an individual suspected of a crime has “coercive aspects to it.” Oregon v. Mathiason, 429 U. S. 492, 495 (1977) (per curiam). Only those interrogations that occur while a suspect is in police custody, however, “heighte[n] the risk” that statements obtained are not the *269product of the suspect’s free choice. Dickerson v. United States, 530 U. S. 428, 435 (2000).
By its very nature, custodial police interrogation entails “inherently compelling pressures.” Miranda, 384 U. S., at 467. Even for an adult, the physical and psychological isolation of custodial interrogation can “undermine the individual’s will to resist and ... compel him to speak where he would not otherwise do so freely.” Ibid. Indeed, the pressure of custodial interrogation is so immense that it “can induce a frighteningly high percentage of people to confess to crimes they never committed.” Corley v. United States, 556 U. S. 303, 321 (2009) (citing Drizin & Leo, The Problem of False Confessions in the Post-DNA World, 82 N. C. L. Rev. 891, 906-907 (2004)); see also Miranda, 384 U. S., at 455, n. 23. That risk is all the more troubling — and recent studies suggest, all the more acute — when the subject of custodial interrogation is a juvenile. See Brief for Center on Wrongful Convictions of Youth et al. as Amici Curiae 21-22 (collecting empirical studies that “illustrate the heightened risk of false confessions from youth”).
Recognizing that the inherently coercive nature of custodial interrogation “blurs the line between voluntary and involuntary statements,” Dickerson, 530 U. S., at 435, this Court in Miranda adopted a set of prophylactic measures designed to safeguard the constitutional guarantee against self-incrimination. Prior to questioning, a suspect “must be warned that he has a right to remain silent, that any statement he does make may be used as evidence against him, and that he has a right to the presence of an attorney, either retained or appointed.” 384 U. S., at 444; see also Florida v. Powell, 559 U. S. 50, 60 (2010) (“The four warnings Miranda requires are invariable, but this Court has not dictated the words in which the essential information must be conveyed”). And, if a suspect makes a statement during custodial interrogation, the burden is on the Government to show, as a “prerequisite]” to the statement’s admissibility as evi*270dence in the Government’s case in chief, that the defendant “voluntarily, knowingly and intelligently” waived his rights.4 Miranda, 384 U. S., at 444, 475-476; Dickerson, 530 U. S., at 443-444.
Because these measures protect the individual against the coercive nature of custodial interrogation, they are required “ ‘only where there has been such a restriction on a person’s freedom as to render him “in custody.”’” Stansbury v. California, 511 U. S. 318, 322 (1994) (per curiam) (quoting Mathiason, 429 U. S., at 495). As we have repeatedly emphasized, whether a suspect is “in custody” is an objective inquiry.
“Two discrete inquiries are essential to the determination: first, what were the circumstances surrounding the interrogation; and second, given those circumstances, would a reasonable person have felt he or she was at liberty to terminate the interrogation and leave. Once the scene is set and the players’ lines and actions are reconstructed, the court must apply an objective test to resolve the ultimate inquiry: was there a formal arrest or restraint on freedom of movement of the degree associated with formal arrest.” Thompson v. Keohane, 516 U. S. 99, 112 (1995) (internal quotation marks, alteration, and footnote omitted).
See also Yarborough v. Alvarado, 541 U. S. 652, 662-663 (2004); Stansbury, 511 U. S., at 323; Berkemer v. McCarty, 468 U. S. 420, 442, and n. 35 (1984). Rather than demarcate a limited set of relevant circumstances, we have required police officers and courts to “examine all of the circumstances *271surrounding the interrogation,” Stansbury, 511 U. S., at 322, including any circumstance that “would have affected how a reasonable person” in the suspect’s position “would perceive his or her freedom to leave,” id., at 325. On the other hand, the “subjective views harbored by either the interrogating officers or the person being questioned” are irrelevant. Id., at 323. The test, in other words, involves no consideration of the “actual mindset” of the particular suspect subjected to police questioning. Alvarado, 541 U. S., at 667; see also California v. Beheler, 463 U. S. 1121, 1125, n. 3 (1983) (per curiam).
The benefit of the objective custody analysis is that it is “designed to give clear guidance to the police.” Alvarado, 541 U. S., at 668. But see Berkemer, 468 U. S., at 441 (recognizing the “occasiona[l]. . . difficulty” that police and courts nonetheless have in “deciding exactly when a suspect has been taken into custody”). Police must make in-the-moment judgments as to when to administer Miranda warnings. By limiting analysis to the objective circumstances of the interrogation, and asking how a reasonable person in the suspect’s position would understand his freedom to terminate questioning and leave, the objective test avoids burdening police with the task of anticipating the idiosyncrasies of every individual suspect and divining how those particular traits affect each person’s subjective state of mind. See id., at 430-431 (officers are not required to “make guesses” as to circumstances “unknowable” to them at the time); Alvarado, 541 U. S., at 668 (officers are under no duty “to consider ... contingent psychological factors when deciding when suspects should be advised of their Miranda rights”).
B
The State and its amici contend that a child’s age has no place in the custody analysis, no matter how young the child subjected to police questioning. We cannot agree. In some circumstances, a child’s age “would have affected how a rea*272sonable person” in the suspect’s position “would perceive his or her freedom to leave.” Stansbury, 511 U. S., at 325. That is, a reasonable child subjected to police questioning will sometimes feel pressured to submit when a reasonable adult would feel free to go. We think it clear that courts can account for that reality without doing any damage to the objective nature of the custody analysis.
A child’s age is far “more than a chronological fact.” Eddings v. Oklahoma, 455 U. S. 104, 115 (1982); accord, Gall v. United States, 552 U. S. 38, 58 (2007); Roper v. Simmons, 543 U. S. 551, 569 (2005); Johnson v. Texas, 509 U. S. 350, 367 (1993). It is a fact that “generates commonsense conclusions about behavior and perception.” Alvarado, 541 U. S., at 674 (Breyer, J., dissenting). Such conclusions apply broadly to children as a class. And, they are self-evident to anyone who was a child once himself, including any police officer or judge.
Time and again, this Court has drawn these commonsense conclusions for itself. We have observed that children “generally are less mature and responsible than adults,” Ed-dings, 455 U. S., at 115-116; that they “often lack the experience, perspective, and judgment to recognize and avoid choices that could be detrimental to them,” Bellotti v. Baird, 443 U. S. 622, 635 (1979) (plurality opinion); that they “are more vulnerable or susceptible to ... outside pressures” than adults, Roper, 543 U. S., at 569; and so on. See Graham v. Florida, 560 U. S. 48, 68 (2010) (finding no reason to “reconsider” these observations about the common “nature of juveniles”). Addressing the specific context of police interrogation, we have observed that events that “would leave a man cold and unimpressed can overawe and overwhelm a lad in his early teens.” Haley v. Ohio, 332 U. S. 596, 599 (1948) (plurality opinion); see also Gallegos v. Colorado, 370 U. S. 49, 54 (1962) (“[N]o matter how sophisticated,” a juvenile subject of police interrogation “cannot be compared” to an *273adult subject). Describing no one child in particular, these observations restate what “any parent knows” — indeed, what any person knows — about children generally. Roper, 543 U. S., at 569.5
Our various statements to this effect are far from unique. The law has historically reflected the same assumption that children characteristically lack the capacity to exercise mature judgment and possess only an incomplete ability to understand the world around them. See, e. g., 1 W. Blackstone, Commentaries on the Laws of England *464-*465 (hereinafter Blackstone) (explaining that limits on children’s legal capacity under the common law “secure them from hurting themselves by their own improvident acts”). Like this Court’s own generalizations, the legal disqualifications placed on children as a class — e. g., limitations on their ability to alienate property, enter a binding contract enforceable against them, and marry without parental consent — exhibit the settled understanding that the differentiating characteristics of youth are universal.6
*274Indeed, even where a “reasonable person” standard otherwise applies, the common law has reflected the reality that children are not adults. In negligence suits, for instance, where liability turns on what an objectively reasonable person would do in the circumstances, “[a]ll American jurisdictions accept the idea that a person’s childhood is a relevant circumstance” to be considered. Restatement (Third) of Torts § 10, Comment b, p. 117 (2005); see also id., Reporters’ Note, pp. 121-122 (collecting cases); Restatement (Second) of Torts §283A, Comment b, p. 15 (1963-1964) (“[TJhere is a wide basis of community experience upon which it is possible, as a practical matter, to determine what is to be expected of [children]”).
As this discussion establishes, “[o]ur history is replete with laws and judicial recognition” that children cannot be viewed simply as miniature adults. Eddings, 455 U. S., at 115-116. We see no justification for taking a different course here. So long as the child’s age was known to the officer at the time of the interview, or would have been objectively apparent to any reasonable officer, including age as part of the custody analysis requires officers neither to consider circumstances “unknowable” to them, Berkemer, 468 U. S., at 430, nor to “anticipate] the frailties or idiosyncrasies” of the particular suspect whom they question, Alvarado, 541 U. S., at 662 (internal quotation marks omitted). The same “wide basis of community experience” that makes it possible, as an objective matter, “to determine what is to be expected” of children in other contexts, Restatement (Second) of Torts §283A, at 15; see supra, at 273, and n. 6, likewise makes it possible to know what to expect of children subjected to police questioning.
*275In other words, a child’s age differs from other personal characteristics that, even when known to police, have no objectively discernible relationship to a reasonable person’s understanding of his freedom of action. Alvarado holds, for instance, that a suspect’s prior interrogation history with law enforcement has no role to play in the custody analysis because such experience could just as easily lead a reasonable person to feel free to walk away as to feel compelled to stay in place. 541 U. S., at 668. Because the effect in any given case would be “contingent [on the] psychologty]” of the individual suspect, the Court explained, such experience cannot be considered without compromising the objective nature of the custody analysis. Ibid. A child’s age, however, is different. Precisely because childhood yields objective conclusions like those we have drawn ourselves — among others, that children are “most susceptible to influence,” Eddings, 455 U. S., at 115, and “outside pressures,” Roper, 543 U. S., at 569 — considering age in the custody analysis in no way involves a determination of how youth “subjectively affect[s] the mindset” of any particular child, Brief for Respondent 14.7
In fact, in many cases involving juvenile suspects, the custody analysis would be nonsensical absent some consideration of the suspect’s age. This case is a prime example. Were the court precluded from taking J. D. B.’s youth into account, it would be forced to evaluate the circumstances present here through the eyes of a reasonable person of average years. In other words, how would a reasonable adult understand his situation, after being removed from a seventh-grade social studies class by a uniformed school re*276source officer; being encouraged by his assistant principal to “do the right thing”; and being warned by a police investigator of the prospect of juvenile detention and separation from his guardian and primary caretaker? To describe such an inquiry is to demonstrate its absurdity. Neither officers nor courts can reasonably evaluate the effect of objective circumstances that, by their nature, are specific to children without accounting for the age of the child subjected to those circumstances.
Indeed, although the dissent suggests that concerns “regarding the application of the Miranda custody rule to minors can be accommodated by considering the unique circumstances present when minors are questioned in school,” post, at 297 (opinion of Auto, J.), the effect of the schoolhouse setting cannot be disentangled from the identity of the person questioned. A student — whose presence at school is compulsory and whose disobedience at school is cause for disciplinary action — is in a far different position than, say, a parent volunteer on school grounds to chaperone an event, or an adult from the community on school grounds to attend a basketball game. Without asking whether the person “questioned in school” is a “minor,” ibid., the coercive effect of the schoolhouse setting is unknowable.
Our prior decision in Alvarado in no way undermines these conclusions. In that case, we held that a state-court decision that failed to mention a 17-year-old’s age as part of the Miranda custody analysis was not objectively unreasonable under the deferential standard of review set forth by the Antiterrorism and Effective Death Penalty Act of 1996 (AEDPA), 110 Stat. 1214. Like the North Carolina Supreme Court here, see 363 N. C., at 672, 686 S. E. 2d, at 140, we observed that accounting for a juvenile’s age in the Miranda custody analysis “could be viewed as creating a subjective inquiry,” 541U. S., at 668. We said nothing, however, of whether such a view would be correct under the law. Cf. Renico v. Lett, 559 U. S. 766, 778, n. 3 (2010) (“[Wjhether *277the [state court] was right or wrong is not the pertinent question under AEDPA”). To the contrary, Justice O’Con-nor’s concurring opinion explained that a suspect’s age may indeed “be relevant to the 'custody’ inquiry.” Alvarado, 541 U. S.; at 669. '
Reviewing the question de novo today, we hold that so long as the child’s age was known to the officer at the time of police questioning, or would have been objectively apparent to a reasonable officer, its inclusion in the custody analysis is consistent with the objective nature of that test.8 This is not to say that a child’s age will be a determinative, or even a significant, factor in every case. Cf. ibid. (O’Connor, J., concurring) (explaining that a state-court decision omitting any mention of the defendant’s age was not unreasonable under AEDPA’s deferential standard of review where the defendant “was almost 18 years old at the time of his interview”); post, at 296 (suggesting that “teenagers nearing the age of majority” are likely to react to an interrogation as would a “typical 18-year-old in similar circumstances”). It is, however, a reality that courts cannot simply ignore.
Ill
The State and its amici offer numerous reasons that courts must blind themselves to a juvenile defendant’s age. None is persuasive.
*278To start, the State contends that a child’s age must be excluded from the custody inquiry because age is a personal characteristic specific to the suspect himself rather than an “external” circumstance of the interrogation. Brief for Respondent 21; see also id., at 18-19 (distinguishing “personal characteristics” from “objective facts related to the interrogation itself” such as the location and duration of the interrogation). Despite the supposed significance of this distinction, however, at oral argument counsel for the State suggested without hesitation that at least some undeniably personal characteristics — for instance, whether the individual being questioned is blind — are circumstances relevant to the custody analysis. See Tr. of Oral Arg. 41. Thus, the State's quarrel cannot be that age is a personal characteristic, without more.9
The State further argues that age is irrelevant to the custody analysis because it “go[esj to how a suspect may internalize and perceive the circumstances of an interrogation.” Brief for Respondent 12; see also Brief for United States as Amicus Curiae 21 (hereinafter U. S. Brief) (arguing that a child’s age has no place in the custody analysis because it goes to whether a suspect is “particularly susceptible” to the external circumstances of the interrogation (some internal quotation marks omitted)). But the same can be said of every objective circumstance that the State agrees is relevant to the custody analysis: Each circumstance goes to how a reasonable person would “internalize and perceive” every other. See, e. g., Stansbury, 511 U. S., at 325. Indeed, this is the very reason that we ask whether the objective circumstances “add up to custody,” Keohane, 516 U. S., at 113, instead of evaluating the circumstances one by one.
*279In the same vein, the State and its amici protest that the “effect of . . . age on [the] perception of custody is internal,” Brief for Respondent 20, or “psychological,” U. S. Brief 21. But the whole point of the custody analysis is to determine whether, given the circumstances, “a reasonable person [would] have felt he or she was ... at liberty to terminate the interrogation and leave.” Keohane, 516 U. S., at 112. Because the Miranda custody inquiry turns on the mindset of a reasonable person in the suspect’s position, it cannot be the ease that a circumstance is subjective simply because it has an “internal” or “psychological” impact on perception. Were that so, there would be no objective circumstances to consider at all.
Relying on our statements that the objective custody test is “designed to give clear guidance to the police,” Alvarado, 541 U. S., at 668, the State next argues that a child’s age must be excluded from the analysis in order to preserve clarity. Similarly, the dissent insists that the clarity of the custody analysis will be destroyed unless a “one-size-fits-all reasonable-person test” applies. Post, at 293. In reality, however, ignoring a juvenile defendant’s age will often make the inquiry more artificial, see supra, at 275-276, and thus only add confusion. And in any event, a child’s age, when known or apparent, is hardly an obscure factor to assess. Though the State and the dissent worry about gradations among children of different ages, that concern cannot justify ignoring a child’s age altogether. Just as police officers are competent to account for other objective circumstances that are a matter of degree such as the length of questioning or the number of officers present, so too are they competent to evaluate the effect of relative age. Indeed, they are competent to do so even though an interrogation room lacks the “reflective atmosphere of a [jury] deliberation room,” post, at 295. The same is true of judges, including those whose childhoods have long since passed, see post, at 293. In short, officers and judges need no imaginative powers, knowledge of developmental psychology, training in cognitive science, or expertise *280in social and cultural anthropology to account for a child’s age. They simply need the common sense to know that a 7-year-old is not a 13-year-old and neither is an adult.
There is, however, an even more fundamental flaw with the State’s plea for clarity and the dissent’s singular focus on simplifying the analysis: Not once have we excluded from the custody analysis a circumstance that we determined was relevant and objective, simply to make the fault line between custodial and noncustodial “brighter.” Indeed, were the guiding concern clarity and nothing else, the custody test would presumably ask only whether the suspect had been placed under formal arrest. Berkemer, 468 U. S., at 441; see ibid, (acknowledging the “occasional] . . . difficulty” police officers confront in determining when a suspect has been taken into custody). But we have rejected that “more easily administered line,” recognizing that it would simply “enable the police to circumvent the constraints on custodial interrogations established by Miranda.” Ibid.; see also ibid., n. 33.10
Finally, the State and the dissent suggest that excluding age from the custody analysis comes at no cost to juveniles’ constitutional rights because the due process voluntariness test independently accounts for a child’s youth. To be sure, that test permits consideration of a child’s age, and it erects its own barrier to admission of a defendant’s inculpatory statements at trial. See Gallegos, 370 U. S., at 63-55; Haley, 332 U. S., at 599-601 (plurality opinion); see also post, *281at 297 (“[Cjourts should be instructed to take particular care to ensure that [young children’s] incriminating statements were not obtained involuntarily”). But Miranda’s procedural safeguards exist precisely because the voluntariness test is an inadequate barrier when custodial interrogation is at stake. See 384 U. S., at 458 (“Unless adequate protective devices are employed to dispel the compulsion inherent in custodial surroundings, no statement obtained from the defendant can truly be the product of his free choice”); Dickerson, 530 U. S., at 442 (“[Rjeliance on the traditional totality-of-the-circumstanees test raise[s] a risk of overlooking an involuntary custodial confession”); see also supra, at 268-270. To hold, as the State requests, that a child’s age is never relevant to whether a suspect has been taken into custody — and thus to ignore the very real differences between children and adults — would be to deny children the full scope of the procedural safeguards that Miranda guarantees to adults.
* * *
The question remains whether J. D. B. was in custody when police interrogated him. We remand for the state courts to address that question, this time taking account of all of the relevant circumstances of the interrogation, including J. D. B.’s age at the time. The judgment of the North Carolina Supreme Court is reversed, and the case is remanded for proceedings not inconsistent with this opinion.
It is so ordered.
with whom The Chief Justice, Justice Scalia, and Justice Thomas join,
dissenting.
The Court’s decision in this case may seem on first consideration to be modest and sensible, but in truth it is neither. It is fundamentally inconsistent with one of the main justifications for the Miranda1 rule: the perceived need for a clear *282rule that can be easily applied in all cases. And today’s holding is not needed to protect the constitutional rights of minors who are questioned by the police.
Miranda’s prophylactic regime places a high value on clarity and certainty. Dissatisfied with the highly fact-specific constitutional rule against the admission of involuntary confessions, the Miranda Court set down rigid standards that often require courts to ignore personal characteristics that may be highly relevant to a particular suspect’s actual susceptibility to police pressure. This rigidity, however, has brought with it one of Miranda’s principal strengths — “the ease and clarity of its application” by law enforcement officials and courts. See Moran v. Burbine, 475 U. S. 412, 425-426 (1986). A key contributor to this clarity, at least up until now, has been Miranda’s objective reasonable-person test for determining custody.
Miranda’s custody requirement is based on the proposition that the risk of unconstitutional coercion is heightened when a suspect is placed under formal arrest or is subjected to some functionally equivalent limitation on freedom of movement. When this custodial threshold is reached, Miranda warnings must precede police questioning. But in the interest of simplicity, the custody analysis considers only whether, under the circumstances, a hypothetical reasonable person would consider himself to be confined.
Many suspects, of course, will differ from this hypothetical reasonable person. Some, including those who have been hardened by past interrogations, may have no need for Miranda warnings at all. And for other suspects — those who are unusually sensitive to the pressures of police questioning — Miranda warnings may come too late to be of any use. That is a necessary consequence of Miranda’s rigid standards, but it does not mean that the constitutional rights of these especially sensitive suspects are left unprotected. A vulnerable defendant can still turn to the constitutional rule *283against actual coercion and contend that his confession was extracted against his will.
Today’s decision shifts the Miranda custody determination from a one-size-fits-all reasonable-person test into an inquiry that must account for at least one individualized characteristic — age—that is thought to correlate with susceptibility to coercive pressures. Age, however, is in no way the only personal characteristic that may correlate with pliability, and in future cases the Court will be forced to choose between two unpalatable alternatives. It may choose to limit today’s decision by arbitrarily distinguishing a suspect’s age from other personal characteristics — such as intelligence, education, occupation, or prior experience with law enforcement— that may also correlate with susceptibility to coercive pressures. Or, if the Court is unwilling to draw these arbitrary lines, it will be forced to effect a fundamental transformation of the Miranda custody test — from a clear, easily applied prophylactic rule into a highly fact-intensive standard resembling the voluntariness test that the Miranda Court found to be unsatisfactory.
For at least three reasons, there is no need to go down this road. First, many minors subjected to police interrogation are near the age of majority, and for these suspects the one-size-fits-all Miranda custody rule may not be a bad fit. Second, many of the difficulties in applying the Miranda custody rule to minors arise because of the unique circumstances present when the police conduct interrogations at school. The Miranda custody rule has always taken into account the setting in which questioning occurs, and accounting for the school setting in such cases will address many of these problems. Third, in cases like the one now before us, where the suspect is especially young, courts applying the constitutional voluntariness standard can take special care to ensure that incriminating statements were not obtained through coercion.
*284Safeguarding the constitutional rights of minors does not require the extreme makeover of Miranda that today’s decision may portend.
I
In the days before Miranda, this Court’s sole metric for evaluating the admissibility of confessions was a voluntariness standard rooted in both the Fifth Amendment’s Self-Incrimination Clause and the Due Process Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment. See Bram v. United States, 168 U. S. 532, 542 (1897) (Self-Incrimination Clause); Brown v. Mississippi, 297 U. S. 278 (1936) (due process). The question in these voluntariness cases was whether the particular “defendant’s will” had been “overborne.” Lynumn v. Illinois, 372 U. S. 528, 534 (1963). Courts took into account both “the details of the interrogation” and “the characteristics of the accused,” Schneckloth v. Bustamonte, 412 U. S. 218, 226 (1973), and then “weighted] . . . the circumstances of pressure against the power of resistance of the person confessing.” Stein v. New York, 346 U. S. 156, 185 (1953).
All manner of individualized, personal characteristics were relevant in this voluntariness inquiry. Among the most frequently mentioned factors were the defendant’s education, physical condition, intelligence, and mental health. Withrow v. Williams, 507 U. S. 680, 693 (1993); see Clewis v. Texas, 386 U. S. 707, 712 (1967) (“only a fifth-grade education”); Greenwald v. Wisconsin, 390 U. S. 519, 520-521 (1968) (per curiam) (had not taken blood-pressure medication); Payne v. Arkansas, 356 U. S. 560, 562, n. 4, 567 (1958) (“mentally dull” and “‘slow to learn’”); Fikes v. Alabama, 352 U. S. 191, 193, 196, 198 (1957) (“low mentality, if not mentally ill”). The suspect’s age also received prominent attention in several cases, e. g., Gallegos v. Colorado, 370 U. S. 49, 54 (1962), especially when the suspect was a “mere child,” Haley v. Ohio, 332 U. S. 596, 599 (1948) (plurality opinion). The weight assigned to any one consideration varied from case to case. But all of these factors, along with *285anything else that might have affeeted the "individual’s . . . capacity for effective choice,” were relevant in determining whether the confession was coerced or compelled. See Miranda v. Arizona, 384 U. S. 436, 506-507 (1966) (Harlan, J., dissenting).
The all-encompassing nature of the voluntariness inquiry had its benefits. It allowed courts to accommodate a “complex of values,” Schneckloth, supra, at 223, 224, and to make a careful, highly individualized determination as to whether the police had wrung “a confession out of [the] accused against his will,” Blackburn v. Alabama, 361 U. S. 199, 206-207 (1960). But with this flexibility came a decrease in both certainty and predictability, and the voluntariness standard proved difficult “for law enforcement officers to conform to, and for courts to apply in a consistent manner.” Dickerson v. United States, 530 U. S. 428, 444 (2000).
In Miranda, the Court supplemented the voluntariness inquiry with a “set of prophylactic measures” designed to ward off the “ ‘inherently compelling pressures’ of custodial interrogation." See Maryland v. Shatzer, 559 U. S. 98, 103 (2010) (quoting Miranda, 384 U. S., at 467). Miranda greatly simplified matters by requiring police to give suspects standard warnings before commencing any custodial interrogation. See id., at 479. Its requirements are no doubt “rigid,” see Fare v. Michael C., 439 U. S. 1310, 1314 (1978) (Rehnquist, J., in chambers), and they often require courts to suppress “trustworthy and highly probative” statements that may be perfectly “voluntary under [a] traditional Fifth Amendment analysis,” Fare v. Michael C., 442 U. S. 707, 718 (1979). But with this rigidity comes increased clarity. Miranda provides “a workable rule to guide police officers,” New York v. Quarles, 467 U. S. 649, 658 (1984) (internal quotation marks omitted), and an administrable standard for the courts. As has often been recognized, this gain in clarity and administrability is one of Miranda’s “principal advantages.” Berkemer v. McCarty, 468 U. S. 420, 430 (1984); see *286also Missouri v. Seibert, 542 U. S. 600, 622 (2004) (Kennedy, J., concurring in judgment).
No less than other facets of Miranda, the threshold requirement that the suspect be in “custody” is “designed to give clear guidance to the police.” Yarborough v. Alvarado, 541 U. S. 652, 668, 669 (2004). Custody under Miranda attaches where there is a “formal arrest” or a “restraint on freedom of movement” akin to formal arrest. California v. Beheler, 463 U. S. 1121, 1125 (1983) (per curiam) (internal quotation marks omitted). This standard is “objective” and turns on how a hypothetical “reasonable person in the position of the individual being questioned would gauge the breadth of his or her freedom of action.” Stansbury v. California, 511 U. S. 318, 322-323, 325 (1994) (per curiam) (internal quotation marks omitted).
Until today, the Court’s cases applying this test have focused solely on the “objective circumstances of the interrogation,” id., at 323, not the personal characteristics of the interrogated. E. g., Berkemer, supra, at 442, and n. 35; but cf. Schneckloth, supra, at 226 (voluntariness inquiry requires consideration of “the details of the interrogation” and “the characteristics of the accused”). Relevant factors have included such things as where the questioning occurred,2 how long it lasted,3 what was said,4 any physical restraints placed on the suspect’s movement,5 and whether the suspect was allowed to leave when the questioning was through.6 The totality of these circumstances — the external circumstances, that is, of the interrogation itself — is what has mattered in this Court’s cases. Personal characteristics of suspects have consistently been rejected or ignored as irrelevant under a one-size-fits-all reasonable-person standard. Stansbury, supra, at 323 (“[CJustody depends on the objec*287tive circumstances of the interrogation, not on the subjective views harbored by either the interrogating officers or the person being questioned”).
For example, in Berkemer v. McCarty, supra, police officers conducting a traffic stop questioned a man who had been drinking and smoking marijuana before he was pulled over. Id., at 423. Although the suspect’s inebriation was readily apparent to the officers at the scene, ibid., the Court's analysis did not advert to this or any other individualized consideration. Instead, the Court focused only on the external circumstances of the interrogation itself. The opinion concluded that a typical “traffic stop” is akin to a “Terry stop”7 and does not qualify as the equivalent of “formal arrest.” Id., at 439.
California v. Beheler, supra, is another useful example. There, the circumstances of the interrogation were “remarkably similar” to the facts of the Court’s earlier decision in Oregon v. Mathiason, 429 U. S. 492 (1977) (per curiam) — the suspect was “not placed under arrest,” he “voluntarily [came] to the police station,” and he was “allowed to leave unhindered by police after a brief interview.” 463 U. S., at 1123, 1121. A California court in Beheler had nonetheless distinguished Mathiason because the police knew that Beheler “had been drinking earlier in the day” and was “emotionally distraught.” 463 U. S., at 1124-1125. In a summary reversal, this Court explained that the fact “[t]hat the police knew more” personal information about Beheler than they did about Mathiason was “irrelevant.” Id., at 1125. Neither one of them was in custody under the objective reasonable-person standard. Ibid.; see also Alvarado, supra, at 668, 669 (experience with law enforcement irrelevant to Miranda custody analysis “as a de novo matter”).8
*288The glaring absence of reliance on personal characteristics in these and other custody cases should come as no surprise. To account for such individualized considerations would be to contradict Miranda’s central premise. The Miranda Court’s decision to adopt its inflexible prophylactic requirements was expressly based on the notion that “[assessments of the knowledge the defendant possessed, based on information as to his age, education, intelligence, or prior contact with authorities, can never be more than speculation.” 384 U. S., at 468-469.
II
In light of this established practice, there is no denying that, by incorporating age into its analysis, the Court is embarking on a new expansion of the established custody standard. And since Miranda is this Court’s rule, “not a constitutional command,” it is up to the Court “to justify its expansion.” Cf. Arizona v. Roberson, 486 U. S. 675, 688 (1988) (Kennedy, J., dissenting). This the Court fails to do.
In its present form, Miranda’s prophylactic regime already imposes “high cost[s]” by requiring suppression of confessions that are often “highly probative” and “voluntary” by any traditional standard. Oregon v. Elstad, 470 U. S. 298, 312 (1985); see Dickerson, 530 U. S., at 444 (under Miranda “statements which may be by no means involuntary, made by a defendant who is aware of his ‘rights,’ may nonetheless be excluded and a guilty defendant go free as a result”). Nonetheless, a “core virtue” of Miranda has been the clarity and precision of its guidance to “police and courts.” Withrow, 507 U. S., at 694 (internal quotation marks omitted); see Moran, 475 U. S., at 425 (“[0]ne of the principal advantages of Miranda is the ease and clarity of its application” (internal quotation marks omitted)). This *289increased clarity “has been thought to outweigh the burdens” that Miranda imposes. Fare, 442 U. S., at 718. The Court has, however, repeatedly cautioned against upsetting the careful “balance” that Miranda struck, Moran, supra, at 424, and it has “refused to sanction attempts to expand [the] Miranda holding” in ways that would reduce its “clarity,” Quarles, 467 U. S., at 658 (citing cases). Given this practice, there should be a “strong presumption” against the Court’s new departure from the established custody test. See United States v. Patane, 542 U. S. 630, 640 (2004) (plurality opinion). In my judgment, that presumption cannot be overcome here.
A
The Court’s rationale for importing age into the custody standard is that minors tend to lack adults’ “capacity to exercise mature judgment” and that failing to account for that “reality” will leave some minors unprotected under Miranda in situations where they perceive themselves to be confined. See ante, at 273, 272. I do not dispute that many suspects who are under 18 will be more susceptible to police pressure than the average adult. As the Court notes, our pre-Miranda cases were particularly attuned to this “reality” in applying the constitutional requirement of voluntariness in fact. Ante, at 272-273 (relying on Haley, 332 U. S., at 599 (plurality opinion), and Gallegos, 370 U. S., at 54). It is no less a “reality,” however, that many persons over the age of 18 are also more susceptible to police pressure than the hypothetical reasonable person. See Payne, 356 U. S., at 567 (fact that defendant was a “mentally dull 19-year-old youth” relevant in voluntariness inquiry). Yet the Miranda, custody standard has never accounted for the personal characteristics of these or any other individual defendants.
Indeed, it has always been the case under Miranda that the unusually meek or compliant are subject to the same fixed rules, including the same custody requirement, as those who are unusually resistant to police pressure. Berkemer, *290468 U. S., at 442, and n. 35 (“only relevant inquiry is how a reasonable man in the suspect’s position would have understood his situation”). Miranda’s, rigid standards are both overinclusive and underinelusive. They are overinclusive to the extent that they provide a windfall to the most hardened and savvy of suspects, who often have no need for Miranda’s protections. Compare Miranda, supra, at 471-472 (“[N]o amount of circumstantial evidence that the person may have been aware of” his rights can overcome Miranda’s requirements), with Orozco v. Texas, 394 U. S. 324, 329 (1969) (White, J., dissenting) (“Where the defendant himself [w]as a lawyer, policeman, professional criminal, or otherwise has become aware of what his right to silence is, it is sheer fancy to assert that his answer to every question asked him is compelled unless he is advised of those rights with which he is already intimately familiar”). And Miranda’s requirements are underinelusive to the extent that they fail to account for “frailties,” “idiosyncrasies,” and other individualized considerations that might cause a person to bend more easily during a confrontation with the police. Alvarado, 541 U. S., at 662 (internal quotation marks omitted). Members of this Court have seen this rigidity as a major weakness in Miranda’s “code of rules for confessions.” See 384 U. S., at 504 (Harlan, J., dissenting); Fare, 439 U. S., at 1314 (Rehnquist, J., in chambers) (“[T]he rigidity of [Miranda’s] prophylactic rules was a principal weakness in the view of dissenters and critics outside the Court”). But if it is, then the weakness is an inescapable consequence of the Miranda Court’s decision to supplement the more holistic voluntariness requirement with a one-size-fits-all prophylactic rule.
That is undoubtedly why this Court’s Miranda cases have never before mentioned “the suspect’s age” or any other individualized consideration in applying the custody standard. See Alvarado, supra, at 666. And unless the Miranda custody rule is now to be radically transformed into one that takes into account the wide range of individual charac*291teristics that are relevant in determining whether a confession is voluntary, the Court must shoulder the burden of explaining why age is different from these other personal characteristics.
Why, for example, is age different from intelligence? Suppose that an officer, upon going to a school to question a student, is told by the principal that the student has an IQ of 75 and is in a special-education class. Cf. In re J. D. B., 363 N. C. 664, 666, 686 S. E. 2d 135, 136-137 (2009). Are those facts more or less important than the student’s age in determining whether he or she “felt... at liberty to terminate the interrogation and leave”? Thompson v. Keohane, 516 U. S. 99, 112 (1995). Am IQ score, like age, is more than just a number. Ante, at 272 (“[A]ge is far ‘more than a chronological fact”’). And an individual’s intelligence can also yield “conclusions” similar to those “we have drawn ourselves” in cases far afield of Miranda. Ante, at 275. Compare ibid, (relying on Eddings v. Oklahoma, 455 U. S. 104 (1982), and Roper v. Simmons, 543 U. S. 551 (2005)) with Smith v. Texas, 543 U. S. 37, 44-45 (2004) (per curiam).
How about the suspect’s cultural background? Suppose the police learn (or should have learned, see ante, at 274) that a suspect they wish to question is a recent immigrant from a country in which dire consequences often befall any person who dares to attempt to cut short any meeting with the police.9 Is this really less relevant than the fact that a suspect is a month or so away from his 18th birthday?
The defendant’s education is another personal characteristic that may generate “conclusions about behavior and perception.” Ante, at 272 (internal quotation marks omitted). Under today’s decision, why should police officers and courts *292“blind themselves,” ante, at 265, to the fact that a suspect has “only a fifth-grade education”? Clewis, 386 U. S., at 712 (voluntariness case). Alternatively, what if the police know or should know that the suspect is “a college-educated man with law school training”? Crooker v. California, 357 U. S. 433, 440 (1958), overruled by Miranda, supra, at 479, and n. 48. How are these individual considerations meaningfully different from age in their “relationship to a reasonable person’s understanding of his freedom of action”? Ante, at 275. The Court proclaims that “[a] child’s age ... is different,” ibid., but the basis for this ipse dixit is dubious.
I have little doubt that today’s decision will soon be cited by defendants — and perhaps by prosecutors as well — for the proposition that all manner of other individual characteristics should be treated like age and taken into account in the Miranda custody calculus. Indeed, there are already lower court decisions that take this approach. See United States v. Beraun-Panez, 812 F. 2d 578, 581 (“reasonable person who was an alien”), modified, 830 F. 2d 127 (CA9 1987); In re Jorge D., 202 Ariz. 277, 280, 43 P. 3d 605, 608 (App. 2002) (age, maturity, and experience); State v. Doe, 130 Idaho 811, 818, 948 P. 2d 166, 173 (App. 1997) (same); In re Joshua David C., 116 Md. App. 580, 594, 698 A. 2d 1155, 1162 (1997) (“education, age, and intelligence”).
In time, the Court will have to confront these issues, and it will be faced with a difficult choice. It may choose to distinguish today’s decision and adhere to the arbitrary proclamation that “age ... is different.” Ante, at 275. Or it may choose to extend today’s holding and, in doing so, further undermine the very rationale for the Miranda regime.
B
If the Court chooses the latter course, then a core virtue of Miranda — the “ease and clarity of its application” — will be lost. Moran, 475 U. S., at 425; see Fare, 442 U. S., at 718 (noting that the clarity of Miranda’s requirements “has been *293thought to outweigh the burdens that the decision . . . imposes”). However, even today’s more limited departure from Miranda’s one-size-fits-all reasonable-person test will produce the very consequences that prompted the Miranda Court to abandon exclusive reliance on the voluntariness test in the first place: The Court’s test will be hard for the police to follow, and it will be hard for judges to apply. See Dickerson, 530 U. S., at 444.
The Court holds that age must be taken into account when it “was known to the officer at the time of the interview,” or when it “would have been objectively apparent” to a reasonable officer. Ante, at 274. The first half of this test overturns the rule that the “initial determination of custody” does not depend on the “subjective views harbored by . . . interrogating officers.” Stansbury, 511 U. S., at 323. The second half will generate time-consuming satellite litigation over a reasonable officer’s perceptions. When, as here, the interrogation takes place in school, the inquiry may be relatively simple. But not all police questioning of minors takes place in schools. In many cases, courts will presumably have to make findings as to whether a particular suspect had a sufficiently youthful look to alert a reasonable officer to the possibility that the suspect was under 18, or whether a reasonable officer would have recognized that a suspect’s ID was a fake. The inquiry will be both “time-consuming and disruptive” for the police and the courts. See Berkemer, 468 U. S., at 432 (refusing to modify the custody test based on similar considerations). It will also be made all the more complicated by the fact that a suspect’s dress and manner will often be different when the issue is litigated in court than it was at the time of the interrogation.
Even after courts clear this initial hurdle, further problems will likely emerge as judges attempt to put themselves in the shoes of the average 16-year-old, or 15-year-old, or 13-year-old, as the case may be. Consider, for example, a 60-year-old judge attempting to make a custody determina*294tion through the eyes of a hypothetical, average 15-year-old. Forty-five years of personal experience and societal change separate this judge from the days when he or she was 15 years old. And this judge may or may not have been an average 15-year-old. The Court’s answer to these difficulties is to state that “no imaginative powers, knowledge of developmental psychology, [or] training in cognitive science” will be necessary. Ante, at 279. Judges “simply need the common sense,” the Court assures, “to know that a 7-year-old is not a 13-year-old and neither is an adult.” Ante, at 280. It is obvious, however, that application of the Court’s new rule demands much more than this.
Take a fairly typical case in which today’s holding may make a difference. A 16V2-year-old moves to suppress incriminating statements made prior to the administration of Miranda warnings. The circumstances are such that, if the defendant were at least 18, the court would not find that he or she was in custody, but the defendant argues that a reasonable 16V2-year-old would view the situation differently. The judge will not have the luxury of merely saying: “It is common sense that a 16V2-year-old is not an 18-year-old. Motion granted.” Rather, the judge will be required to determine whether the differences between a typical lfi^-year-old and a typical 18-year-old with respect to susceptibility to the pressures of interrogation are sufficient to change the outcome of the custody determination. Today’s opinion contains not a word of actual guidance as to how judges are supposed to go about making that determination.
C
Petitioner and the Court attempt to show that this task is not unmanageable by pointing out that age is taken into account in other legal contexts. In particular, the Court relies on the fact that the age of a defendant is a relevant factor under the reasonable-person standard applicable in negligence suits. Ante, at 274 (citing Restatement (Third) of *295Torts §10, Comment b, p. 117 (2005)). But negligence is generally a question for the jury, the members of which can draw on their varied experiences with persons of different ages. It also involves a post hoc determination, in the reflective atmosphere of a deliberation room, about whether the defendant conformed to a standard of care. The Miranda custody determination, by contrast, must be made in the first instance by police officers in the course of an investigation that may require quick decisionmaking. See Quarles, 467 U. S., at 658 (noting “the importance” under Miranda of providing “a workable rule ‘to guide police officers, who have only limited time and expertise to reflect on and balance the social and individual interests involved in the specific circumstances they. confront' ”); Alvarado, 541 U. S., at 668, 669 (“[T]he custody inquiry states an objective rule designed to give clear guidance to the police”).
Equally inapposite are the Eighth Amendment cases the Court cites in support of its new rule. Ante, at 272, 274, 275 (citing Eddings, 455 U. S. 104, Roper, 543 U. S. 551, and Graham v. Florida, 560 U. S. 48 (2010)). Those decisions involve the “judicial exercise of independent judgment” about the constitutionality of certain punishments. E. g., id., at 67. Like the negligence standard, they do not require on-the-spot judgments by the police.
Nor do state laws affording extra protection for juveniles during custodial interrogation provide any support for petitioner’s arguments. See Brief for Petitioner 16-17. States are free to enact additional restrictions on the police over and above those demanded by the Constitution or Miranda. In addition, these state statutes generally create clear, workable rules to guide police conduct. See Brief for Petitioner 16-17 (citing statutes that require or permit parents to be present during custodial interrogation of a minor, that require minors to be advised of a statutory right to communicate with a parent or guardian, and that require parental consent to custodial interrogation). Today's decision, by *296contrast, injects a new, complicating factor into what had been a clear, easily applied prophylactic rule. See Alvarado, supra, at 668-669.10
Ill
The Court’s decision greatly diminishes the clarity and ad-ministrability that have long been recognized as “principal advantages” of Miranda’s prophylactic requirements. See, e. g., Moran, 475 U. S., at 425. But what is worse, the Court takes this step unnecessarily, as there are other, less disruptive tools available to ensure that minors are not coerced into confessing.
As an initial matter, the difficulties that the Court’s standard introduces will likely yield little added protection for most juvenile defendants. Most juveniles who are subjected to police interrogation are teenagers nearing the age of majority.11 These defendants’ reactions to police pressure are unlikely to be much different from the reaction of a typical 18-year-old in similar circumstances. A one-size-fits-all Mi *297 randa custody rule thus provides a roughly reasonable fit for these defendants.
In addition, many of the concerns that petitioner raises regarding the application of the Miranda custody rule to minors can be accommodated by considering the unique circumstances present when minors are questioned in school. See Brief for Petitioner 10-11 (reciting at length the factors petitioner believes to be relevant to the custody determination here, including the fact that petitioner was removed from class by a police officer, that the interview took place in a school conference room, and that a uniformed officer and a vice principal were present). The Miranda custody rule has always taken into account the setting in which questioning occurs, restrictions on a suspect’s freedom of movement, and the presence of police officers or other authority figures. See Alvarado, swpra, at 665; Shatzer, 559 U. S., at 112-114. It can do so here as well.12
Finally, in cases like the one now before us, where the suspect is much younger than the typical juvenile defendant, courts should be instructed to take particular care to ensure that incriminating statements were not obtained involuntarily. The voluntariness inquiry is flexible and accommodating by nature, see Schneckloth, 412 U. S., at 224, and the Court’s precedents already make clear that “special care” must be exercised in applying the voluntariness test where the confession of a “mere child” is at issue, Haley, 332 U. S., at 599 (plurality opinion). If Miranda’s rigid, one-size-fits-all standards fail to account for the unique needs of juveniles, the response should be to rigorously apply the constitutional rule against coercion to ensure that the rights of *298minors are protected. There is no need to run Miranda off the rails.
* * *
The Court rests its decision to inject personal characteristics into the Miranda custody inquiry on the principle that judges applying Miranda cannot “blind themselves to . . . commonsense reality.” Ante, at 265, 272, 273-274, 277. But the Court’s shift is fundamentally at odds with the clear prophylactic rules that Miranda has long enforced. Miranda frequently requires judges to blind themselves to the reality that many un-Mirandized' custodial confessions are “by no means involuntary” or coerced. Dickerson, 530 U. S., at 444. It also requires police to provide a rote recitation of Miranda warnings that many suspects already know and could likely recite from memory.18 Under today’s new, “reality”-based approach to the doctrine, perhaps these and other principles of our Miranda jurisprudence will, like the custody standard, now be ripe for modification. Then, bit by bit, Miranda will lose the clarity and ease of application that has long been viewed as one of its chief justifications.
I respectfully dissent.
9.3.2 The meaning of "interrogation" 9.3.2 The meaning of "interrogation"
9.3.2.1 Rhode Island v. Innis (1980) 9.3.2.1 Rhode Island v. Innis (1980)
RHODE ISLAND v. INNIS
No. 78-1076.
Argued October 30, 1979
Decided May 12, 1980
*292Stewart, J., delivered the opinion of the Court, in which White, Blackmun, Powell, and Rehnquist, JJ., joined. White, J., filed a concurring opinion, post, p. 304. Burger, C. J., filed an opinion concurring in the judgment, post, p. 304. Marshall, J., filed a dissenting opinion, in which Brennan, J., joined, post, p. 305. Stevens, J., filed a dissenting opinion, post, p. 307.
Dennis J. Roberts II, Attorney General of Rhode Island, argued the cause for petitioner. With him on the briefs were Nancy Marks Rahmes and Stephen Lichatin III, Special Assistant Attorneys General.
*293 John A. MacFadyen III argued the cause for respondent. With him on the brief was William F. Reilly.*
delivered the opinion of the Court.
In Miranda v. Arizona, 384 U. S. 436, 474, the Court held that, once a defendant in custody asks to speak with a lawyer, all interrogation must cease until a lawyer is present. The issue in this case is whether the respondent was “interrogated” in violation of the standards promulgated in the Miranda opinion.
I
On the night of January 12, 1975, John Mulvaney, a Providence, R. I., taxicab driver, disappeared after being dispatched to pick up a customer. His body was discovered four days later buried in a shallow grave in Coventry, R. I. He had died from a shotgun blast aimed at the back of his head.
On January 17, 1975, shortly after midnight, the Providence police received a telephone call from Gerald Aubin, also a taxicab driver, who reported that he had just been robbed by a man wielding a sawed-off shotgun. Aubin further reported that he had dropped off his assailant near Rhode Island College in a section of Providence known as Mount Pleasant. While at the Providence police station waiting to give a statement, Aubin noticed a picture of his assailant on a bulletin board. Aubin so informed one of the police officers present. The officer prepared a photo array, and again Aubin identified a picture of the same person. That person was the respondent. Shortly thereafter, the Providence police began a search of the Mount Pleasant area.
At approximately 4:30 a. m. on the same date, Patrolman Lovell, while cruising the streets of Mount Pleasant in a pa*294trol car, spotted the respondent standing in the street facing him. When Patrolman Lovell stopped his car, the respondent walked towards it. Patrolman Lovell then arrested the respondent, who was unarmed, and advised him of his so-called Miranda rights. While the two men waited in the patrol car for other police officers to arrive, Patrolman Lovell did not converse with the respondent other than to respond to the latter’s request for a cigarette.
Within minutes, Sergeant Sears arrived at the scene of the arrest, and he also gave the respondent the Miranda warnings. Immediately thereafter, Captain Leyden and other police officers arrived. Captain Leyden advised the respondent of his Miranda rights. The respondent stated that he understood those rights and wanted to speak with a lawyer. Captain Leyden then directed that the respondent be placed in a “caged wagon,” a four-door police car with a wire screen mesh between the front and rear seats, and be driven to the central police station. Three officers, Patrolmen Gleckman, Williams, and McKenna, were assigned to accompany the respondent to the central station. They placed the respondent in the vehicle and shut the doors. Captain Leyden then instructed the officers not to question the respondent or intimidate or coerce him in any way. The three officers then entered the vehicle, and it departed.
While en route to the central station, Patrolman Gleckman initiated a conversation with Patrolman McKenna concerning the missing shotgun.1 As Patrolman Gleckman later testified:
“A. At this point, I was talking back and forth with Patrolman McKenna stating that I frequent this area while on patrol and [that because a school for handicapped children is located nearby,] there’s a lot of handicapped children running around in this area, and God *295forbid one of them might find a weapon with shells and they might hurt themselves.” App. 43^44.
Patrolman McKenna apparently shared his fellow officer’s concern:
“A. I more or less concurred with him [Gleckman] that it was a safety factor and that we should, you know, continue to search for the weapon and try to find it.” Id., at 53.
While Patrolman Williams said nothing, he overheard the conversation between the two officers:
“A. He [Gleckman] said it would be too bad if the little — I believe he said a girl — would pick up the gun, maybe kill herself.” Id., at 59.
The respondent then interrupted the conversation, stating that the officers should turn the car around so he could show them where the gun was located. At this point, Patrolman McKenna radioed back to Captain Leyden that they were returning to the scene of the arrest, and that the respondent would inform them of the location of the gun. At the time the respondent indicated that the officers should turn back, they had traveled no more than a mile, a trip encompassing only a few minutes.
The police vehicle then returned to the scene of the arrest where a search for the shotgun was in progress. There, Captain Leyden again advised the respondent of his Miranda rights. The respondent replied that he understood those rights but that he “wanted to get the gun out of the way bepause of the kids in the area in the school.” The respondent then led the police to a nearby field, where he pointed out the shotgun under some rocks by hhe side of the road.
On March 20, 1975, a grand jury returned an indictment charging the respondent with the kidnaping, robbery, and murder of John Mulvaney. Before trial, the respondent moved to suppress the shotgun and the statements he had *296made to the police regarding it. After an evidentiary hearing at which the respondent elected not to testify, the trial judge found that the respondent had been “repeatedly and completely advised of his Miranda rights.” He further found that it was “entirely understandable that [the officers in the police vehicle] would voice their concern [for the safety of the handicapped children] to each other.” The judge then concluded that the respondent’s decision to inform the police of the location of the shotgun was “a waiver, clearly, and on the basis of the evidence that I have heard, and [sic] intelligent waiver, of his [Miranda] right to remain silent.” Thus, without passing on whether the police officers had in fact “interrogated” the respondent, the trial court sustained the admissibility of the shotgun and'testimony related to its discovery. That evidence was later introduced at the respondent’s trial, and the jury returned a verdict of guilty on all counts.
On appeal, the Rhode Island Supreme Court, in a 3-2 decision, set aside the respondent’s conviction. 120 R. I. -, 391 A. 2d 1158. Relying at least in part on this Court’s decision in Brewer v. Williams, 430 U. S. 387, the court concluded that the respondent had invoked his Miranda right to counsel and that, contrary to Miranda’s mandate that, in the absence of counsel, all custodial interrogation then cease, the police officers in the vehicle had “interrogated” the respondent without a valid waiver of his right to counsel. It was the view of the state appellate court that, even though the police officers may have been genuinely concerned about the public safety and even though the respondent had not been addressed personally by the police officers, the respondent nonetheless had been subjected to “subtle coercion” that was the equivalent of “interrogation” within the meaning of the Miranda opinion. Moreover, contrary to the holding of the trial court, the appellate court concluded that the evidence was insufficient to support a finding of waiver. Having *297concluded that both the shotgun and testimony relating to its discovery were obtained in violation of the Miranda standards and therefore should not have been admitted into evidence, the Rhode Island Supreme Court held that the respondent was entitled to a new trial.
We granted certiorari to address for the first time the meaning of “interrogation” under Miranda v. Arizona. 440 U. S. 934.
II
In its Miranda opinion, the Court concluded that in the context of “custodial interrogation” certain procedural safeguards are necessary to protect a defendant’s Fifth and Fourteenth Amendment privilege against compulsory self-incrimination. More specifically, the Court held that “the prosecution may not use statements, whether exculpatory or inculpatory, stemming from custodial interrogation of the defendant unless it demonstrates the use of procedural safeguards effective to secure the privilege against self-incrimination.” 384 U. S., at 444. Those safeguards included the now familiar Miranda warnings — namely, that the defendant be informed “that he has the right to remain silent, that anything he says can be used against him in a court of law, that he has the right to the presence of an attorney, and that if he cannot afford an attorney one will be appointed for him prior to any questioning if he so desires” — or their equivalent. Id., at 479.
The Court in the Miranda opinion also outlined in some detail the consequences that would result if a defendant sought to invoke those procedural safeguards. With regard to the right to the presence of counsel, the Court noted:
“Once warnings have been given, the subsequent procedure is clear. ... If the individual states that he wants an attorney, the interrogation must cease until an attorney is present. At that time, the individual must have an opportunity to confer with the attorney and to *298have him present during any subsequent questioning. If the individual cannot obtain an attorney and he indicates that he wants one before speaking to police, they must respect his decision to remain silent.” Id., at 473-474.
In the present case, the parties are in agreement that the respondent was fully informed of his Miranda rights and that he invoked his Miranda right to counsel when he told Captain Leyden that he wished to consult with a lawyer. It is also uncontested that the respondent was “in custody” while being transported to the police station.
The issue, therefore, is whether the respondent was “interrogated” by the police officers in violation of the respondent’s undisputed right under Miranda to remain silent until he had consulted with a lawyer.2 In resolving this issue, we first define the term “interrogation” under Miranda before turning to a consideration of the facts of this case.
A
The starting point for defining “interrogation” in this context is, of course, the Court’s Miranda opinion. There the Court observed that “[b]y custodial interrogation, we mean questioning initiated by law enforcement officers after a person has been taken into custody or otherwise deprived of his freedom of action in any significant way.” Id., at 444 (emphasis added). This passage and other references throughout the opinion to “questioning” might suggest that the Miranda rules were to apply only to those police interrogation practices that involve express questioning of a defendant while in custody.
*299We' do not, however, construe the Miranda opinion so narrowly. The concern of the Court in Miranda was that the “interrogation environment” created by the interplay of interrogation and custody would “subjugate the individual to the will of his examiner” and thereby undermine the privilege against compulsory self-incrimination. Id., at 457-458. The police practices that evoked this concern included several that did not involve express questioning. For example, one of the practices discussed in Miranda was the use of lineups in which a coached witness would pick the defendant as the perpetrator. This was designed to establish that the defendant was in fact guilty as a predicate for further interrogation. Id., at 453. A variation on this theme discussed in Miranda was the so-called “reverse line-up” in which a defendant would be identified by coached witnesses as the perpetrator of a fictitious crime, with the object of inducing him to confess to the actual crime of which he was suspected in order to escape the false prosecution. Ibid. The Court in Miranda also included in its survey of interrogation practices the use of psychological ploys, such as to “posi[t]” "the guilt of the subject,” to “minimize the moral seriousness of the offense,” and “to cast blame on the victim or on society.” Id., at 450. It is clear that these techniques of persuasion, no less than express questioning, were thought, in a custodial setting, to amount to interrogation.3
This is not to say, however, that all statements obtained by the police after a person has been taken into custody are to be considered the product of interrogation. As the Court in Miranda noted:
“Confessions remain a proper element in law enforcement. Any statement given freely and voluntarily with*300out any compelling influences is, of course, admissible in evidence. The fundamental import of the privilege while an individual is in custody is not whether he is allowed to talk to the police without the benefit of warnings and counsel, but whether he can be interrogated. . . . Volunteered statements of any kind are not barred by the Fifth Amendment and their admissibility is not affected by our holding today.” Id., at 478 (emphasis added).
It is clear therefore that the special procedural safeguards outlined in Miranda are required not where a suspect is simply taken into custody, but rather where a suspect in custody is subjected to interrogation. “Interrogation,” as conceptualized in the Miranda opinion, must reflect a measure of compulsion above and beyond that inherent in custody itself.4
We conclude that the Miranda safeguards come into play whenever a person in custody is subjected to either express *301questioning or its functional equivalent. That is to say, the term “interrogation” under Miranda refers not only to express questioning, but also to any words or actions on the part of the police (other than those normally attendant to arrest and custody) that the police should know are reasonably likely to elicit an incriminating response 5 from the suspect.6 The latter portion of this definition focuses primarily upon the perceptions of the suspect, rather than the intent of the police. This focus reflects the fact that the Miranda safeguards were designed to vest a suspect in custody with an added measure of protection against coercive police practices, without regard to objective proof of the underlying intent of the police. A practice that the police should know is reasonably likely to evoke an incriminating response from a suspect thus amounts to interrogation.7 But, since the police surely *302cannot be held accountable for the unforeseeable results of their words or actions, the definition of interrogation can extend only to words or actions on the part of police officers that they should have known were reasonably likely to elicit an incriminating response.8
B
Turning to the facts of the present case, we conclude that the respondent was not “interrogated” within the meaning of Miranda. It is undisputed that the first prong of the definition of “interrogation” was not satisfied, for the conversation between Patrolmen Gleckman and McKenna included no express questioning of the respondent. Rather, that conversation was, at least in form, nothing more than a dialogue between the two officers to which no response from the respondent was invited.
Moreover, it cannot be fairly concluded that the respondent was subjected to the “functional equivalent” of questioning. It cannot be said, in short, that Patrolmen Gleckman and McKenna should have known that their conversation was reasonably likely to elicit an incriminating response from the respondent. There is nothing in the record to suggest that the officers were aware that the respondent was peculiarly susceptible to an appeal to his conscience concerning the safety of handicapped children. Nor is there anything in the *303record to suggest that the police knew that the respondent was unusually disoriented or upset at the time of his arrest.9
The case thus boils down to whether, in the context of a brief conversation, the officers should have known that the respondent would suddenly be moved to make a self-incriminating response. Given the fact that the entire conversation appears to have consisted of no more than a few offhand remarks, we cannot say that the officers should have known that it was reasonably likely that Innis would so respond. This is not a case where the police carried on a lengthy harangue in the presence of the suspect. Nor does the record support the respondent’s contention that, under the circumstances, the officers’ comments were particularly “evocative.” It is our view, therefore, that the respondent was not subjected by the police to words or actions that the police should have known were reasonably likely to elicit an incriminating response from him.
The Rhode Island Supreme Court erred, in short, in equating “subtle compulsion” with interrogation. That the officers’ comments struck a responsive chord is readily apparent. Thus, it may be said, as the Rhode Island Supreme Court did say, that the respondent was subjected to “subtle compulsion.” But that is not the end of the inquiry. It must also be established that a suspect’s incriminating response was the product of words or actions on the part of the police that they should have known were reasonably likely to elicit an incriminating response.10 This was not established in the present case.
*304For the reasons stated, the judgment of the Supreme Court of Rhode Island is vacated, and the case is remanded to that court for further proceedings not inconsistent with this opinion.
It is so ordered.
concurring.
I would prefer to reverse the judgment for the reasons stated in my dissenting opinion in Brewer v. Williams, 430 U. S. 387 (1977); but given that judgment and the Court's opinion in Brewer, I join the opinion of the Court in the present case.
concurring in the judgment.
Since the result is not inconsistent with Miranda v. Arizona, 384 U. S. 436 (1966), I concur in the judgment.
The meaning of Miranda has become reasonably clear and law enforcement practices have adjusted to its strictures; I would neither overrule Miranda, disparage it, nor extend it at this late date. I fear, however, that the rationale in Parts II-A and II-B of the Court’s opinion will not clarify the tension between this holding and Brewer v. Williams, 430 U. S. 387 (1977), and our other cases. It may introduce new elements of uncertainty; under the Court’s test, a police officer, in the brief time available, apparently must evaluate the suggestibility and susceptibility of an accused. See, e. g., ante, at 302, n. 8. Few, if any, police officers are competent to make the kind of evaluation seemingly contemplated; even a psychiatrist asked to express an expert opinion on these aspects of a suspect in custody would very likely employ extensive questioning and observation to make the judgment now charged to police officers.
*305Trial judges have enough difficulty discerning the boundaries and nuances flowing from post-Miranda opinions, and we do not clarify that situation today.*
with whom Me. Justice Brennan joins,
dissenting.
I am substantially in agreement with the Court’s definition of “interrogation” within the meaning of Miranda v. Arizona, 384 U. S. 436 (1966). In my view, the Miranda safeguards apply whenever police conduct is intended or likely to produce a response from a suspect in custody. As I read the Court’s opinion, its definition of “interrogation” for Miranda purposes is equivalent, for practical purposes, to my formulation, since it contemplates that “where a police practice is designed to elicit an incriminating response from the accused, it is unlikely that the practice will not also be one which the police should have known was reasonably likely to have that effect.” Ante, at 302, n. 7. Thus, the Court requires an objective inquiry into the likely effect of police conduct on a typical individual, taking into account any special susceptibility of the suspect to certain kinds of pressure of which the police know or have reason to know.
I am utterly at a loss, however, to understand how this objective standard as applied to the facts before us can rationally lead to the conclusion that there was no interrogation. Innis was arrested at 4:30 a. m., handcuffed, searched, advised of his rights, and placed in the back seat of a patrol car. Within a short time he had been twice more advised of his rights and driven away in a four-door sedan with three police officers. Two officers sat in the front seat and one sat beside Innis in the back seat. Since the car traveled no more than a mile before Innis agreed to point out the location of *306the murder weapon, Officer Gleckman must have begun almost immediately to talk about the search for the shotgun.
The Court attempts to characterize Gleckman’s statements as “no more than a few offhand remarks” which could not reasonably have been expected to elicit a response. Ante, at 303. If the statements had been addressed to respondent, it would be impossible to draw such a conclusion. The simple message of the “talking back and forth” between Gleckman and McKenna was that they had to find the shotgun to avert a child’s death.
One can scarcely imagine a stronger appeal to the conscience of a suspect — any suspect — than the assertion that if the weapon is not found an innocent person will be hurt or killed. And not just any innocent person, but an innocent child' — a little girl — a helpless, handicapped little girl on her way to school. The notion that such an appeal could not be expected to have any effect unless the suspect were known to have some special interest in handicapped children verges on the ludicrous. As a matter of fact, the appeal to a suspect to confess for the sake of others, to “display some evidence of decency and honor,” is a classic interrogation technique. See, e. g., F. Inbau & J. Reid, Criminal Interrogation and Confessions 60-62 (2d ed. 1967).
Gleckman’s remarks would obviously have constituted interrogation if they had been explicitly directed to respondent, and the result should not be different because they were nominally addressed to McKenna. This is not a case where police officers speaking among themselves are accidentally overheard by a suspect. These officers were “talking back and forth” in close quarters with the handcuffed suspect,* traveling past the very place where they believed the weapon was located. They knew respondent would hear and attend to their conversation, and they are chargeable with knowledge *307of and responsibility for the pressures to speak which they created.
I firmly believe that this case is simply an aberration, and that in future cases the Court will apply the standard adopted today in accordance with its plain meaning.
dissenting.
An original definition of an old term coupled with an original finding of fact on a cold record makes it possible for this Court to .vacate the judgment of the Supreme Court of Rhode Island. That court, on the basis of the facts in the record before it, concluded that members of the Providence, R. I., police force had interrogated respondent, who was clearly in custody at the time, in the absence of counsel after he had requested counsel. In my opinion the state court’s conclusion that there, was interrogation rests on a proper interpretation of both the facts and the law; thus, its determination that the products of the interrogation were inadmissible at trial should be affirmed.
The undisputed facts can be briefly summarized. Based on information that respondent, armed with a sawed-off shotgun, had just robbed a cabdriver in the vicinity of Rhode Island College, a number of Providence police officers began a thorough search of the area in the early morning of January 17, 1975. One of them arrested respondent without any difficulty at about 4:30 a. m. Respondent did not then have the shotgun in his possession and presumably had abandoned it, or hidden it, shortly before he was arrested. Within a few minutes, at least a dozen officers were on the scene. App. 37. It is fair to infer that an immediate search for the missing weapon was a matter of primary importance.
When a police captain arrived, he repeated the Miranda warnings that a patrolman and a sergeant had already given to respondent, and respondent said he wanted an attorney. The captain then ordered two officers who were assigned to *308a “caged wagon” to transport respondent to the central station, and ordered a third officer to ride in the back seat with respondent. While the wagon was en route to the station, one of the officers, Officer Gleckman, stated that there was a school for handicapped children in the vicinity and “God forbid” one of them should find the shotgun and hurt herself.1 As a result of this statement, respondent told the officers that he was willing to show them where the gun was hidden.2 The wagon returned to the scene and respondent helped the officers locate the gun.
After a suppression hearing, the trial court assumed, without deciding, that Officer Gleckman’s statement constituted interrogation. The court nevertheless allowed the shotgun and testimony concerning respondent’s connection to it into evidence on the ground that respondent had waived his Miranda rights when he consented to help police locate the gun. On appeal from respondent’s conviction for kidnaping, robbery and murder, the Rhode Island Supreme Court held that Officer Gleckman’s statement constituted impermissible interrogation and rejected the trial court’s waiver analysis. It therefore reversed respondent’s conviction and remanded for a new trial. Today, the Court reverses the Rhode Island court’s resolution of the interrogation issue, creating a new definition of that term and holding, as a matter of law, that the statement at issue in this case did not constitute interrogation.
*309I
As the Court recognizes, Miranda v. Arizona, 384 U. S. 436, makes it clear that, once respondent requested an attorney, he had an absolute right to have any type of interrogation cease until an attorney was present.3 As it also recognizes, Miranda requires that the term “interrogation” be broadly construed to include “either express questioning or its functional equivalent.” Ante, at 300-301.4 In my view any statement that would normally be understood by the average listener as calling for a response is the functional equivalent of a direct question, whether or not it is punctuated by a question mark. The Court, however, takes a much narrower view. It holds that police conduct is not the “functional equivalent” of direct questioning unless the police should have known that what they were saying or doing was likely to elicit an incriminating response from the suspect.5 This holding represents a plain departure from the principles set forth in Miranda.
*310In Miranda the Court required the now-familiar warnings to be given to suspects prior to custodial interrogation in order to dispel the atmosphere of coercion that necessarily accompanies such interrogations. In order to perform that function effectively, the warnings must be viewed by both the police and the suspect as a correct and binding statement of their respective rights.6 Thus, if, after being told that he has a right to have an attorney present during interrogation, a suspect chooses to cut off questioning until counsel can be obtained, his choice must be “scrupulously honored” by the police. See Michigan v. Mosley, 423 U. S. 96, 104; id., at 110, n. 2 (White, J., concurring in result). At the least this must mean that the police are prohibited from making deliberate attempts to elicit statements from the suspect.7 Yet the Court is unwilling to characterize all such attempts as “interrogation,” noting only that “where a police practice is designed to elicit an incriminating response from the accused, it is unlikely that the practice will not also be one which the police *311should have known was reasonably likely to have that effect.” 8 Ante, at 302, n. 7.
From the suspect’s point of view, the effectiveness of the warnings depends on whether it appears that the police are scrupulously honoring his rights. Apparent attempts to elicit information from a suspect after he has invoked his right to cut off questioning necessarily demean that right and tend to reinstate the imbalance between police and suspect that the Miranda warnings are designed to correct.9 Thus, if the rationale for requiring those warnings in the first place is to be respected, any police conduct or statements that would appear to a reasonable person in the suspect’s position to call for a response must be considered “interrogation.” 10
In short, in order to give full protection to a suspect’s right to be free from any interrogation at all, the definition of “interrogation” must include any police statement or conduct that has the same purpose or effect as a direct question. Statements that appear to call for a response from the suspect, as well as those that are designed to do so, should be considered interrogation. By prohibiting only those relatively few statements or actions that a police officer should know are likely to elicit an incriminating response, the Court today accords a suspect *312considerably less protection. Indeed, since I suppose most suspects are unlikely to incriminate themselves even when questioned directly, this new definition will almost certainly exclude every statement that is not punctuated with a question mark from the concept of “interrogation.” 11
The difference between the approach required by a faithful adherence to Miranda and the stinted test applied by the Court today can be illustrated by comparing three different ways in which Officer Gleckman could have communicated his fears about the possible dangers posed by the shotgun to handicapped children. He could have:
(1) directly asked Innis:
Will you please tell me where the shotgun is so we can protect handicapped schoolchildren from danger?
(2) announced to the other officers in the wagon:
If the man sitting in the back seat with me should decide to tell us where the gun is, we can protect handicapped children from danger,
or (3) stated to the other officers:
It would be too bad if a little handicapped girl would pick up the gun that this man left in the area and maybe kill herself.
In my opinion, all three of these statements should be considered interrogation because all three appear to be designed to elicit a response from anyone who in fact knew where the gun was located.12 Under the Court’s test, on the other hand, *313the form of the statements would be critical. The third statement would not be interrogation because in the Court’s view there was no reason for Officer Gleckman to believe that Innis was susceptible to this type of an implied appeal, ante, at 302 ; therefore, the statement would not be reasonably likely to elicit an incriminating response. Assuming that this is true, see infra, at 314-315, then it seems to me that the first two statements, which would be just as unlikely to elicit such a response, should also not be considered interrogation. But, because the first statement is clearly an express question, it would be considered interrogation under the Court’s test. The second statement, although just as clearly a deliberate appeal to Innis to reveal the location of the gun, would presumably not be interrogation because (a) it was not in form a direct question and (b) it does not fit within the “reasonably likely to elicit an incriminating response” category that applies to indirect interrogation.
As this example illustrates, the Court’s test creates an incentive for police to ignore a suspect’s invocation of his rights in order to make continued attempts to extract information from him. If a suspect does not appear to be susceptible to a particular type of psychological pressure,13 the police are apparently free to exert that pressure on him despite his request for counsel, so long as they are careful not to punctuate their statements with question marks. And if, contrary to all reasonable expectations, the suspect makes an *314incriminating statement, that statement can be used against him at trial. The Court thus turns Miranda’s unequivocal rule against any interrogation at all into a trap in which unwary suspects may be caught by police deception.
II
Even if the Court’s new definition of the term “interrogation” provided a proper standard for deciding this case, I find it remarkable that the Court should undertake the initial task of applying its new standard to the facts of the present case. As noted above, the trial judge did not decide whether Officer Gleckman had interrogated respondent. Assuming, arguendo, that he had, the judge concluded that respondent had waived his request for counsel by offering to help find the gun. The Rhode Island Supreme Court disagreed on the waiver questions,14 and expressly concluded that interrogation had occurred. Even if the Rhode Island court might have reached a different conclusion under the Court’s new definition, I do not believe we should exclude it from participating in a review of the actions taken by the Providence police. Indeed, given the creation of a new standard of decision at this stage of the litigation, the proper procedure would be to remand to the trial court for findings on the basis of evidence directed at the new standard.
In any event, I think the Court is clearly wrong in holding, as a matter of law, that Officer Gleckman should not have realized that his statement was likely to elicit an incriminating *315response. The Court implicitly assumes that, at least in the absence of a lengthy harangue, a criminal suspect will not be likely to respond to indirect appeals to his humanitarian impulses. It then goes on to state that the officers in this case had no reason to believe that respondent would be unusually susceptible to such appeals. Ante, at 302. Finally, although the significance of the officer’s intentions is not clear under its objective test, the Court states in a footnote that the record “in no way suggests” that Officer Gleckman’s remarks were designed to elicit a response., Ante, at 303, n. 9.
The Court’s assumption that criminal suspects are not susceptible to appeals to conscience is directly contrary to the teachings of police interrogation manuals, which recommend appealing to a suspect’s sense of morality as a standard and often successful interrogation technique.15 Surely the practical experience embodied in such manuals should not be ignored in a case such as this in which the record is devoid of any evidence — one way or the other — as to the susceptibility of suspects in general or of Innis in particular.
Moreover, there is evidence in the record to support the view that Officer Gleckman’s statement was intended to elicit a response from Innis. Officer Gleckman, who was not regularly assigned to the caged wagon, was directed by a police captain to ride with respondent to the police station. Although there is a dispute in the testimony, it appears that Gleckman may well have been riding in the back seat with Innis.16 The record does not explain why, notwithstanding *316the fact that respondent was handcuffed, unarmed, and had offered no resistance when arrested by an officer acting alone, the captain ordered Officer Gleckman to ride with respondent.17 It is not inconceivable that two professionally trained police officers concluded that a few well-chosen remarks might induce respondent to disclose the whereabouts of the shotgun.18 This conclusion becomes even more plausible in light of the emotionally charged words chosen by Officer Gleckman (“God forbid” that a “little girl” should find the gun and hurt herself) .19
III
Under my view of the correct standard, the judgment of the Rhode Island Supreme Court should be affirmed because the *317statements made within Innis’ hearing were as likely to elicit a response as a direct question. However, even if I were to agree with the Court’s much narrower standard, I would disagree with its disposition of this particular case because the Rhode Island courts should be given an opportunity to apply the new standard to the facts of this case.
9.3.2.2 Illinois v. Perkins (1990) 9.3.2.2 Illinois v. Perkins (1990)
ILLINOIS v. PERKINS
No. 88-1972.
Argued February 20, 1990
Decided June 4, 1990
*293Kennedy, J., delivered the opinion of the Court, in which Rehnquist, C. J., and White, Blackmun, Stevens, O’Connor, and Scalia, JJ., joined. Brennan, J., filed an opinion concurring in the judgment, post, p. 300. Marshall, J., filed a dissenting opinion, post, p. 303.
Marcia L. Friedl, Assistant Attorney General of Illinois, argued the cause for petitioner. With her on the briefs were Neil F. Hartigan, Attorney General, Robert J. Ruiz, Solicitor General, and Terence M. Madsen and Jack Donatelli, Assistant Attorneys General.
Paul J. Larkin, Jr., argued the cause for the United States as amicus curiae urging reversal. With him on the brief were Solicitor General Starr, Assistant Attorney General Dennis, and Deputy Solicitor General Bryson.
Dan W. Evers, by appointment of the Court, 493 U. S. 930, argued the cause for respondent. With him on the brief was Daniel M. Kirwan. *
delivered the opinion of the Court.
An undercover government agent was placed in the cell of respondent Perkins, who was incarcerated on charges unrelated to the subject of the agent’s investigation. Respondent made statements that implicated him in the crime that the agent sought to solve. Respondent claims that the statements should be inadmissible because he had not been given Miranda warnings by the agent. We hold that the statements are admissible. Miranda warnings are not required when the suspect is unaware that he is speaking to a law enforcement officer and gives a voluntary statement.
I
In November 1984, Richard Stephenson was murdered in a suburb of East St. Louis, Illinois. The murder remained unsolved until March 1986, when one Donald Charlton told police that he had learned about a homicide from a fellow inmate at the Graham Correctional Facility, where Charlton had been serving a sentence for burglary. The fellow inmate was Lloyd Perkins, who is the respondent here. Charlton told police that, while at Graham, he had befriended respondent, who told him in detail about a murder that respondent had committed in East St. Louis. On hearing Charlton’s account, the police recognized details of the Stephenson murder that were not well known, and so they treated Charlton’s story as a credible one.
By the time the police heard Charlton’s account, respondent had been released from Graham, but police traced him to a jail in Montgomery County, Illinois, where he was being held pending trial on a charge of aggravated battery, unrelated to the Stephenson murder. The police wanted to investigate further respondent’s connection to the Stephenson murder, but feared that the use of an eavesdropping device would prove impracticable and unsafe. They decided instead to place an undercover agent in the cellblock with respondent and Charlton. The plan was for Charlton and un*295dercover agent John Parisi to pose as escapees from a work release program who had been arrested in the course of a burglary. Parisi and Charlton were instructed to engage respondent in casual conversation and report anything he said about the Stephenson murder.
Parisi, using the alias “Vito Bianco,” and Charlton, both clothed in jail garb, were placed in the cellblock with respondent at the Montgomery County jail. The cellblock consisted of 12 separate cells that opened onto a common room. Respondent greeted Charlton who, after a brief conversation with respondent, introduced Parisi by his alias. Parisi told respondent that he “wasn’t going to do any more time” and suggested that the three of them escape. Respondent replied that the Montgomery County jail was “rinky-dink” and that they could “break out.” The trio met in respondent’s cell later that evening, after the other inmates were asleep, to refine their plan. Respondent said that his girlfriend could smuggle in a pistol. Charlton said: “Hey, Pm not a murderer, Pm a burglar. That’s your guys’ profession.” After telling Charlton that he would be responsible for any murder that occurred, Parisi asked respondent if he had ever “done” anybody. Respondent said that he had and proceeded to describe at length the events of the Stephenson murder. Parisi and respondent then engaged in some casual conversation before respondent went to sleep. Parisi did not give respondent Miranda warnings before the conversations.
Respondent was charged with the Stephenson murder. Before trial, he moved to suppress the statements made to Parisi in the jail. The trial court granted the motion to suppress, and the State appealed. The Appellate Court of Illinois affirmed, 176 Ill. App. 3d 443, 531 N. E. 2d 141 (1988), holding that Miranda v. Arizona, 384 U. S. 436 (1966), prohibits all undercover contacts with incarcerated suspects that are reasonably likely to elicit an incriminating response.
We granted certiorari, 493 U. S. 808 (1989), to decide whether an undercover law enforcement officer must give *296 Miranda warnings to an incarcerated suspect before asking him questions that may elicit an incriminating response. We now reverse.
II
In Miranda v. Arizona, supra, the Court held that the Fifth Amendment privilege against self-incrimination prohibits admitting statements given by a suspect during “custodial interrogation” without a prior warning. Custodial interrogation means “questioning initiated by law enforcement officers after a person has been taken into custody . . . .” Id., at 444. The warning mandated by Miranda was meant to preserve the privilege during “incommunicado interrogation of individuals in a police-dominated atmosphere.” Id., at 445. That atmosphere is said to generate “inherently compelling pressures which work to undermine the individual’s will to resist and to compel him to speak where he would not otherwise do so freely.” Id., at 467. “Fidelity to the doctrine announced in Miranda requires that it be enforced strictly, but only in those types of situations in which the concerns that powered the decision are implicated.” Berkemer v. McCarty, 468 U. S. 420, 437 (1984).
Conversations between suspects and undercover agents do not implicate the concerns underlying Miranda. The essential ingredients of a “police-dominated atmosphere” and compulsion are not present when an incarcerated person speaks freely to someone whom he believes to be a fellow inmate. Coercion is determined from the perspective of the suspect. Rhode Island v. Innis, 446 U. S. 291, 301 (1980); Berkemer v. McCarty, supra, at 442. When a suspect considers himself in the company of cellmates and not officers, the coercive atmosphere is lacking. Miranda, 384 U. S., at 449 (“[T]he ‘principal psychological factor contributing to a successful interrogation is privacy—being alone with the person under interrogation’”); id., at 445. There is no empirical basis for the assumption that a suspect speaking to those whom he assumes are not officers will feel compelled to speak by the fear *297of reprisal for remaining silent or in the hope of more lenient treatment should he confess.
It is the premise of Miranda that the danger of coercion results from the interaction of custody and official interrogation. We reject the argument that Miranda warnings are required whenever a suspect is in custody in a technical sense and converses with someone who happens to be a government agent. Questioning by captors, who appear to control the suspect’s fate, may create mutually reinforcing pressures that the Court has assumed will weaken the suspect’s will, but where a suspect does not know that he is conversing with a government agent, these pressures do not exist. The state court here mistakenly assumed that because the suspect was in custody, no undercover questioning could take place. When the suspect has no reason to think that the listeners have official power over him, it should not be assumed that his words are motivated by the reaction he expects from his listeners. “[W]hen the agent carries neither badge nor gun and wears not ‘police blue,’ but the same prison gray” as the suspect, there is no “interplay between police interrogation and police custody.” Kamisar, Brewer v. Williams, Massiah and Miranda: What is “Interrogation”? When Does it Matter?, 67 Geo. L. J. 1, 67, 63 (1978).
Miranda forbids coercion, not mere strategic deception by taking advantage of a suspect’s misplaced trust in one he supposes to be a fellow prisoner. As we recognized in Miranda: “Confessions remain a proper element in law enforcement. Any statement given freely and voluntarily without any compelling influences is, of course, admissible in evidence.” 384 U. S., at 478. Ploys to mislead a suspect or lull him into a false sense of security that do not rise to the level of compulsion or coercion to speak are not within Miranda’s concerns. Cf. Oregon v. Mathiason, 429 U. S. 492, 495-496 (1977) (per curiam); Moran v. Burbine, 475 U. S. 412 (1986) (where police fail to inform suspect of attorney’s efforts to reach him, *298neither Miranda nor the Fifth Amendment requires suppression of prearraignment confession after voluntary waiver).
Miranda was not meant to protect suspects from boasting about their criminal activities in front of persons whom they believe to be their cellmates. This case is illustrative. Respondent had no reason to feel that undercover agent Parisi had any legal authority to force him to answer questions or that Parisi could affect respondent’s future treatment. Respondent viewed the cellmate-agent as an equal and showed no hint of being intimidated by the atmosphere of the jail. In recounting the details of the Stephenson murder, respondent was motivated solely by the desire to impress his fellow inmates. He spoke at his own peril.
The tactic employed here to elicit a voluntary confession from a suspect does not violate the Self-Incrimination Clause. We held in Hoffa v. United States, 385 U. S. 293 (1966), that placing an undercover agent near a suspect in order to gather incriminating information was permissible under the Fifth Amendment. In Hoffa, while petitioner Hoffa was on trial, he met often with one Partin, who, unbeknownst to Hoffa, was cooperating with law enforcement officials. Partin reported to officials that Hoffa had divulged his attempts to bribe jury members. We approved using Hoffa’s statements at his subsequent trial for jury tampering, on the rationale that “no claim ha[d] been or could [have been] made that [Hoffa’s] incriminating statements were the product of any sort of coercion, legal or factual.” Id., at 304. In addition, we found that the fact that Partin had fooled Hoffa into thinking that Partin was a sympathetic colleague did not affect the volun-tariness of the statements. Ibid. Cf. Oregon v. Mathiason, supra, at 495-496 (officer’s falsely telling suspect that suspect’s fingerprints had been found at crime scene did not render interview “custodial” under Miranda); Frazier v. Cupp, 394 U. S. 731, 739 (1969); Procunier v. Atchley, 400 U. S. 446, 453-454 (1971). The only difference between this case and Hoffa is that the suspect here was incarcerated, but *299detention, whether or not for the crime in question, does not warrant a presumption that the use of an undercover agent to speak with an incarcerated suspect makes any confession thus obtained involuntary.
Our decision in Mathis v. United States, 391 U. S. 1 (1968), is distinguishable. In Mathis, an inmate in a state prison was interviewed by an Internal Revenue Service agent about possible tax violations. No Miranda warning was given before questioning. The Court held that the suspect’s incriminating statements were not admissible at his subsequent trial on tax fraud charges. The suspect in Mathis was aware that the agent was a Government official, investigating the possibility of noncompliance with the tax laws. The case before us now is different. Where the suspect does not know that he is speaking to a government agent there is no reason to assume the possibility that the suspect might feel coerced. (The bare fact of custody may not in every instance require a warning even when the suspect is aware that he is speaking to an official, but we do not have occasion to explore that issue here.)
This Court’s Sixth Amendment decisions in Massiah v. United States, 377 U. S. 201 (1964), United States v. Henry, 447 U. S. 264 (1980), and Maine v. Moulton, 474 U. S. 159 (1985), also do not avail respondent. We held in those cases that the government may not use an undercover agent to circumvent the Sixth Amendment right to counsel once a suspect has been charged with the crime. After charges have been filed, the Sixth Amendment prevents the government from interfering with the accused’s right to counsel. Moulton, supra, at 176. In the instant case no charges had been filed on the subject of the interrogation, and our Sixth Amendment precedents are not applicable.
Respondent can seek no help from his argument that a bright-line rule for the application of Miranda is desirable. Law enforcement officers will have little difficulty putting into practice our holding that undercover agents need not
*300give Miranda warnings to incarcerated suspects. The use of undercover agents is a recognized law enforcement technique, often employed in the prison context to detect violence against correctional officials or inmates, as well as for the purposes served here. The interests protected by Miranda are not implicated in these cases, and the warnings are not required to safeguard the constitutional rights of inmates who make voluntary statements to undercover agents.
We hold that an undercover law enforcement officer posing as a fellow inmate need not give Miranda warnings to an incarcerated suspect before asking questions that may elicit an incriminating response. The statements at issue in this case were voluntary, and there is no federal obstacle to their admissibility at trial. We now reverse and remand for proceedings not inconsistent with our opinion.
It is so ordered.
concurring in the judgment.
The Court holds that Miranda v. Arizona, 384 U. S. 436 (1966), does not require suppression of a statement made by an incarcerated suspect to an undercover agent. Although I do not subscribe to the majority’s characterization of Miranda in its entirety, I do agree that when a suspect does not know that his questioner is a police agent, such questioning does not amount to “interrogation” in an “inherently coercive” environment so as to require application of Miranda. Since the only issue raised at this stage of the litigation is the applicability of Miranda, * I concur in the judgment of the Court.
*301This is not to say that I believe the Constitution condones the method by which the police extracted the confession in this case. To the contrary, the deception and manipulation practiced on respondent raise a substantial claim that the confession was obtained in violation of the Due Process Clause. As we recently stated in Miller v. Fenton, 474 U. S. 104, 109-110 (1985):
“This Court has long held that certain interrogation techniques, either in isolation or as applied to the unique characteristics of a particular suspect, are so offensive to a civilized system of justice that they must be condemned under the Due Process Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment. . . . Although these decisions framed the legal inquiry in a variety of different ways, usually through the ‘convenient shorthand’ of asking whether the confession was ‘involuntary,’ Blackburn v. Alabama, 361 U. S. 199, 207 (1960), the Court’s analysis has consistently been animated by the view that ‘ours is an accusatorial and not an inquisitorial system,’ Rogers v. Richmond, 365 U. S. 534, 541 (1961), and that, accordingly, tactics for eliciting inculpatory statements must fall within the broad constitutional boundaries imposed by the Fourteenth Amendment’s guarantee of fundamental fairness.”
*302That the right is derived from the Due Process Clause “is significant because it reflects the Court’s consistently held view that the admissibility of a confession turns as much on whether the techniques for extracting the statements, as applied to this suspect, are compatible with a system that presumes innocence and assures that a conviction will not be secured by inquisitorial means as on whether the defendant’s will was in fact overborne.” Id., at 116. See Spano v. New York, 360 U. S. 315, 320-321 (1959) (“The abhorrence of society to the use of involuntary confessions does not turn alone on their inherent untrustworthiness. It also turns on the deep-rooted feeling that the police must obey the law while enforcing the law; that in the end life and liberty can be as much endangered from illegal methods used to convict those thought to be criminals as from the actual criminals themselves”); see also Degraffenreid v. McKellar, 494 U. S. 1071, 1072-1074 (1990) (Marshall, J., joined by Brennan, J., dissenting from denial of certiorari).
The method used to elicit the confession in this case deserves close scrutiny. The police devised a ruse to lure respondent into incriminating himself when he was in jail on an unrelated charge. A police agent, posing as a fellow inmate and proposing a sham escape plot, tricked respondent into confessing that he had once committed a murder, as a way of proving that he would be willing to do so again should the need arise during the escape. The testimony of the undercover officer and a police informant at the suppression hearing reveal the deliberate manner in which the two elicited incriminating statements from respondent. See App. 43-53 and 66-73. We have recognized that “the mere fact of custody imposes pressures on the accused; confinement may bring into play subtle influences that will make him particularly susceptible to the ploys of undercover Government agents.” United States v. Henry, 447 U. S. 264, 274 (1980). As Justice Marshall points out, the pressures of custody make a suspect more likely to confide in others and to engage *303in “jailhouse bravado.” See post, at 307-308. The State is in a unique position to exploit this vulnerability because it has virtually complete control over the suspect’s environment. Thus, the State can ensure that a suspect is barraged with questions from an undercover agent until the suspect confesses. Cf. Mincey v. Arizona, 437 U. S. 385, 399 (1978); Ashcraft v. Tennessee, 322 U. S. 143, 153-155 (1944). The testimony in this case suggests the State did just that.
The deliberate use of deception and manipulation by the police appears to be incompatible “with a system that presumes innocence and assures that a conviction will not be secured by inquisitorial means,” Miller, supra, at 116, and raises serious concerns that respondent’s will was overborne. It is open to the lower court on remand to determine whether, under the totality of the circumstances, respondent’s confession was elicited in a manner that violated the Due Process Clause. That the confession was not elicited through means of physical torture, see Brown v. Mississippi, 297 U. S. 278 (1936) or overt psychological pressure, see Payne v. Arkansas, 356 U. S. 560, 566 (1958), does not end the inquiry. “[A]s law enforcement officers become more responsible, and the methods used to extract confessions more sophisticated, [a court’s] duty to enforce federal constitutional protections does not cease. It only becomes more difficult because of the more delicate judgments to be made.” Spano, supra, at 321.
dissenting.
This Court clearly and simply stated its holding in Miranda v. Arizona, 384 U. S. 436 (1966): “[T]he prosecution may not use statements, whether exculpatory or inculpatory, stemming from custodial interrogation of the defendant unless it demonstrates the use of procedural safeguards effective to secure the privilege against self-incrimination.” Id., at 444. The conditions that require the police to apprise a defendant of his constitutional rights—custodial interrogation conducted by an agent of the police—were present in this *304case. Because Lloyd Perkins received no Miranda warnings before he was subjected to custodial interrogation, his confession was not admissible.
The Court reaches the contrary conclusion by fashioning an exception to the Miranda rule that applies whenever “an undercover law enforcement officer posing as a fellow inmate . . . ask[s] questions that may elicit an incriminating response” from an incarcerated suspect. Ante, at 300. This exception is inconsistent with the rationale supporting Miranda and allows police officers intentionally to take advantage of suspects unaware of their constitutional rights. I therefore dissent.
The Court does not dispute that the police officer here conducted a custodial interrogation of a criminal suspect. Perkins was incarcerated in county jail during the questioning at issue here; under these circumstances, he was in custody as that term is defined in Miranda. 384 U. S., at 444; Mathis v. United States, 391 U. S. 1, 4-5 (1968) (holding that defendant incarcerated on charges different from the crime about which he is questioned was in custody for purposes of Miranda). The United States argues that Perkins was not in custody for purpose of Miranda because he was familiar with the custodial environment as a result of being in jail for two days and previously spending time in prison. Brief for United States as Amicus Curiae 11. Perkins’ familiarity with confinement, however, does not transform his incarceration into some sort of noncustodial arrangement. Cf. Orozco v. Texas, 394 U. S. 324 (1969) (holding that suspect who had been arrested in his home and then questioned in his bedroom was in custody, notwithstanding his familiarity with the surroundings).
While Perkins was confined, an undercover police officer, with the help of a police informant, questioned him about a serious crime. Although the Court does not dispute that Perkins was interrogated, it downplays the nature of the 35-minute questioning by disingenuously referring to it as a *305“conversation.” Ante, at 295, 296. The officer’s narration of the “conversation” at Perkins’ suppression hearing, however, reveals that it clearly was an interrogation.
“[Agent:] You ever do anyone?
“[Perkins:] Yeah, once in East St. Louis, in a rich white neighborhood.
“Informant: I didn’t know they had any rich white neighborhoods in East St. Louis.
“Perkins: It wasn’t in East St. Louis, it was by a race track in Fairview Heights. . . .
“[Agent]: You did a guy in Fairview Heights?
“Perkins: Yeah in a rich white section where most of the houses look the same.
“[Informant]: If all the houses look the same, how did you know you had the right house?
“Perkins: Me and two guys cased the house for about a week. I knew exactly which house, the second house on the left from the corner.
“[Agent]: How long ago did this happen?
“Perkins: Approximately about two years ago. I got paid $5,000 for that job.
“[Agent]: How did it go down?
“Perkins: I walked up [to] this guy[’s] house with a sawed-off under my trench coat.
“[Agent]: What type gun[?]
“Perkins: A .12 gauge Remmington [sic] Automatic Model 1100 sawed-off.” App. 49-50.
The police officer continued the inquiry, asking a series of questions designed to elicit specific information about the victim, the crime scene, the weapon, Perkins’ motive, and his actions during and after the shooting. Id., at 50-52. This interaction was not a “conversation”; Perkins, the officer, and the informant were not equal participants in a free-ranging discussion, with each man offering his views on different topics. Rather, it was an interrogation: Perkins was subjected to express questioning likely to evoke an incriminating re *306sponse. Rhode Island v. Innis, 446 U. S. 291, 300-301 (1980).
Because Perkins was interrogated by police while he was in custody, Miranda required that the officer inform him of his rights. In rejecting that conclusion, the Court finds that “conversations” between undercover agents and suspects are devoid of the coercion inherent in station house interrogations conducted by law enforcement officials who openly represent the State. Ante, at 296. Miranda was not, however, concerned solely with police coercion. It dealt with any police tactics that may operate to compel a suspect in custody to make incriminating statements without full awareness of his constitutional rights. See Miranda, supra, at 468 (referring to “inherent pressures of the interrogation atmosphere”); Estelle v. Smith, 451 U. S. 454, 467 (1981) (“The purpose of [the Miranda] admonitions is to combat what the Court saw as ‘inherently compelling pressures’ at work on the person and to provide him with an awareness of the Fifth Amendment privilege and the consequences of forgoing it”) (quoting Miranda, 384 U. S., at 467). Thus, when a law enforcement agent structures a custodial interrogation so that a suspect feels compelled to reveal incriminating information, he must inform the suspect of his constitutional rights and give him an opportunity to decide whether or not to talk.
The compulsion proscribed by Miranda includes deception by the police. See Miranda, supra, at 453 (indicting police tactics “to induce a confession out of trickery,” such as using fictitious witnesses or false accusations); Berkemer v. McCarty, 468 U. S. 420, 433 (1984) (“The purposes of the safeguards prescribed by Miranda are to ensure that the police do not coerce or trick captive suspects into confessing”) (emphasis deleted and added). Cf. Moran v. Burbine, 475 U. S. 412, 421 (1986) (“[T]he relinquishment of the right [protected by the Miranda warnings] must have been voluntary in the sense that it was the product of a free and deliberate choice rather than intimidation, coercion, or deception”) (em *307phasis added). Although the Court did not find trickery by itself sufficient to constitute compulsion in Hoffa v. United States, 385 U. S. 293 (1966), the defendant in that case was not in custody. Perkins, however, was interrogated while incarcerated. As the Court has acknowledged in the Sixth Amendment context: “[T]he mere fact of custody imposes pressures on the accused; confinement may bring into play subtle influences that will make him particularly susceptible to the ploys of undercover Government agents.” United States v. Henry, 447 U. S. 264, 274 (1980). See also Massiah v. United States, 377 U. S. 201, 206 (1964) (holding, in the context of the Sixth Amendment, that defendant’s constitutional privilege against self-incrimination was “more seriously imposed upon . . . because he did not even know that he was under interrogation by a government agent”) (citation and internal quotation marks omitted).
Custody works to the State’s advantage in obtaining incriminating information. The psychological pressures inherent in confinement increase the suspect’s anxiety, making him likely to seek relief by talking with others. Dix, Undercover Investigations and Police Rulemaking, 53 Texas L. Rev. 203, 230 (1975). See also Gibbs, The First Cut is the Deepest: Psychological Breakdown and Survival in the Detention Setting, in The Pains of Imprisonment 97, 107 (R. Johnson & H. Toch eds. 1982); Hagel-Seymour, Environmental Sanctuaries for Susceptible Prisoners, in The Pains of Imprisonment, supra, at 267, 279; Chicago Tribune, Apr. 15, 1990, p. D3 (prosecutors have found that prisoners often talk freely with fellow inmates). The inmate is thus more susceptible to efforts by undercover agents to elicit information from him. Similarly, where the suspect is incarcerated, the constant threat of physical danger peculiar to the prison environment may make him demonstrate his toughness to other inmates by recounting or inventing past violent acts. “Because the suspect’s ability to select people with whom he can confide is completely within their control, the police have a *308unique opportunity to exploit the suspect’s vulnerability. In short, the police can insure that if the pressures of confinement lead the suspect to confide in anyone, it will be a police agent.” (Footnote omitted.) White, Police Trickery in Inducing Confessions, 127 U. Pa. L. Rev. 581, 605 (1979). In this case, the police deceptively took advantage of Perkins’ psychological vulnerability by including him in a sham escape plot, a situation in which he would feel compelled to demonstrate his willingness to shoot a prison guard by revealing his past involvement in a murder. See App. 49 (agent stressed that a killing might be necessary in the escape and then asked Perkins if he had ever murdered someone).
Thus, the pressures unique to custody allow the police to use deceptive interrogation tactics to compel a suspect to make an incriminating statement. The compulsion is not eliminated by the suspect’s ignorance of his interrogator’s true identity. The Court therefore need not inquire past the bare facts of custody and interrogation to determine whether Miranda warnings are required.
The Court’s adoption of an exception to the Miranda doctrine is incompatible with the principle, consistently applied by this Court, that the doctrine should remain simple and clear. See, e. g., Miranda, supra, at 441-442 (noting that one reason certiorari was granted was “to give concrete constitutional guidelines for law enforcement agencies and courts to follow”); McCarty, supra, at 430 (noting that one of “the principal advantages of the [Miranda] doctrine . . . is the clarity of that rule”); Arizona v. Roberson, 486 U. S. 675, 680 (1988) (same). See also New York v. Quarles, 467 U. S. 649, 657-658 (1984) (recognizing need for clarity in Miranda doctrine and finding that narrow “public safety” exception would not significantly lessen clarity and would be easy for police to apply). We explained the benefits of a brightline rule in Fare v. Michael C., 442 U. S. 707 (1979): “Miranda’s holding has the virtue of informing police and prosecutors with specificity as to what they may do in conducting custo*309dial interrogation, and of informing courts under what circumstances statements obtained during such interrogation are not admissible.” Id., at 718.
The Court’s holding today complicates a previously clear and straightforward doctrine. The Court opines that “[l]aw enforcement officers will have little difficulty putting into practice our holding that undercover agents need not give Miranda warnings to incarcerated suspects.” Ante, at 299-300. Perhaps this prediction is true with respect to fact patterns virtually identical to the one before the Court today. But the outer boundaries of the exception created by the Court are by no means clear. Would Miranda be violated, for instance, if an undercover police officer beat a confession out of a suspect, but the suspect thought the officer was another prisoner who wanted the information for his own purposes?
Even if Miranda, as interpreted by the Court, would not permit such obviously compelled confessions, the ramifications of today’s opinion are still disturbing. The exception carved out of the Miranda doctrine today may well result in a proliferation of departmental policies to encourage police officers to conduct interrogations of confined suspects through undercover agents, thereby circumventing the need to administer Miranda warnings. Indeed, if Miranda now requires a police officer to issue warnings only in those situations in which the suspect might feel compelled “to speak by the fear of reprisal for remaining silent or in the hope of more lenient treatment should he confess,” ante, at 296-297, presumably it allows custodial interrogation by an undercover officer posing as a member of the clergy or a suspect’s defense attorney. Although such abhorrent tricks would play on a suspect’s need to confide in a trusted adviser, neither would cause the suspect to “think that the listeners have official power over him,” ante, at 297. The Court’s adoption of the “undercover agent” exception to the Miranda rule thus is necessarily also the adoption of a substantial loophole in our jurisprudence protecting suspects’ Fifth Amendment rights.
I dissent.