Digest
A woman on post-prison supervision disappeared from her probation officer’s watch. Years after her supervision was scheduled to end, she committed a new crime. The government now seeks to punish her not just for that crime, but also for violating the terms of her original release—a move only possible if the clock on her supervision was secretly paused the entire time she was missing.
At the Supreme Court, the justices wrestled with whether the "fugitive-tolling doctrine"—a rule that stops the clock on a sentence when someone absconds—applies to supervised release. The government argued it’s common sense: a person cannot serve a term of supervised release if they aren’t actually being supervised. In response, the defendant’s lawyer argued Congress provided a different remedy: a judge can issue a warrant for the absconder and, once they are caught, revoke their release and send them back to prison. Several justices appeared skeptical of the government's position, questioning why the Court should create a tolling rule from "whole cloth" without a clear statute and highlighting the logical paradox of claiming someone is simultaneously "on" release (to violate its conditions) and "off" it (to stop the clock).
This decision will define the limits of federal power over individuals after they leave prison. If the Court agrees with the government, anyone who absconds could have their supervision period extended indefinitely, facing harsher penalties for actions taken long after their original term was set to expire. If the Court sides with Rico, the government's authority is limited: it must issue a warrant before the term runs out to hold a person accountable for disappearing.
Key Moments
He bluntly told the government's lawyer that if the law is inadequate, the proper remedy is to ask Congress for a fix, not have the Court 'create a fugitive tolling doctrine pretty whole cloth.'
This signals a deep skepticism from the Court's leading textualist. He sees this not as interpreting a law, but as inventing one, which violates the separation of powers. It frames the government's entire case as an improper request for judicial activism.
She challenged the government's 'tolling' theory, saying, 'what you're actually asking for is an extension rule... So that means those conditions are extending, not tolled, right?'
This was a killer reframing. By calling it an 'extension' instead of 'tolling,' she exposed a logical flaw: the government wants the clock stopped, but also wants the person to still be bound by the rules of release. Her question highlighted the government's attempt to have it both ways.
Following up on the theme of judicial overreach, she asked the government's lawyer if his theory meant the Court would be 'by common law extending a period of punishment.'
She connected the government's abstract legal theory to a core constitutional concern. Lengthening punishment is a legislative function, and her question framed the government's position as asking the judiciary to do something it has no power to do.
Cutting straight to the point, she asked the government's lawyer, 'So where are we supposed to look in the statute for your solution?'
This question laid bare the government's central weakness: their argument has no home in the text of the law. For justices who believe the words of the statute are paramount, this is often the beginning and end of the analysis.
She posed a hypothetical about a person on supervised release who falls into a coma. They aren't being supervised, so does their sentence get tolled?
This hypothetical forced the government to concede its rule isn't just about a lack of supervision, but requires a 'deliberate' act by the defendant. This admission revealed that the government had to add a mental state requirement that, like the tolling rule itself, is nowhere to be found in the statute.
She asked why someone who absconds gets their clock stopped, but someone who reports every week while secretly 'running a criminal enterprise' does not, even though they are also violating the 'essence of the supervision.'
This hypothetical exposed the arbitrary nature of the government's proposed rule. It questioned why one specific violation (disappearing) should have the unique power to stop the clock, while other, potentially far more dangerous violations, do not. It undermined the coherence of the government's theory.
He suggested the entire legal fight was an artificial problem created by the Sentencing Guidelines, and that a judge could punish the person for absconding anyway when resentencing them for the violation.
This showed he views the real-world stakes as very low. He was essentially asking, 'Are we fighting over a technicality that doesn't change the ultimate outcome?' This could signal he's looking for a narrow, practical resolution or might even side with the petitioner on the law while noting it doesn't really matter.
In his final rebuttal, the petitioner's lawyer argued that the government's position required believing a person could be simultaneously 'on' supervised release (for purposes of violating its terms) and 'off' it (for purposes of stopping the clock).
This was a masterful crystallization of the central paradox in the government's argument. By highlighting this 'have your cake and eat it too' logic, he gave the justices a simple, powerful reason to reject the government's theory as incoherent.
Arguments
Petitioner
The petitioner argues that the government's entire case is built on a logical contradiction. Supervised release is a period of monitoring after someone gets out of prison, where they must follow certain rules. The government claims that when Ms. Rico ran away from her probation officer—a status called "absconding"—the clock on her sentence should have automatically paused. This idea is called "fugitive tolling." However, the government also wants to punish Ms. Rico for a crime she committed while she was on the run, arguing this new crime was a violation of her supervised release rules. The petitioner's argument is simple: you can’t have it both ways. If Ms. Rico was capable of violating the rules of her supervised release, she must have been serving her sentence of supervised release. You cannot be simultaneously "off the clock" for timekeeping purposes but "on the clock" for punishment.
This does not mean people who abscond get a free pass. The petitioner argues that Congress already created a specific, powerful tool to handle this exact problem: revocation. Under the law, when a person absconds, a warrant is issued. The original sentence clock keeps running and may even expire while they are a fugitive. But once the person is caught, the judge can hold a special hearing, "revoke" the original term of supervised release, and essentially rewind the clock. At this point, the judge can impose a completely new sentence, including more prison time, which effectively strips the person of any credit for the time they spent on the run. This established legal process holds the person fully accountable for their actions without resorting to a legal theory that contradicts itself.
Finally, the petitioner contends that the government is asking the Supreme Court to invent a rule that doesn't exist in the law. There is no statute passed by Congress that creates "fugitive tolling" for supervised release. In fact, the history shows Congress knew exactly how to create such a rule and deliberately chose not to. An older system called parole did have an explicit tolling rule created by a specific law. When Congress created the modern system of supervised release to replace parole, it copied some old rules but pointedly left the fugitive tolling rule out. The petitioner argues this wasn't an accident; it was a choice. The government is now asking the Court to act like a legislature and write that rule back into the law, undermining the specific system Congress actually designed.
Respondent
The respondent argues that a person on supervised release who runs away from their probation officer shouldn't get credit for the time they spend as a fugitive. Supervised release is the period of monitoring and support a person receives after being released from prison, designed to help them reintegrate into society and ensure they follow the law. The government's core position is that the clock on this supervision period should be paused, or "tolled," the moment a person absconds and should only restart when they are caught. To them, the very concept of "supervised release" requires actual supervision. If a person makes it impossible for the government to monitor them, they are not fulfilling their sentence, and it’s illogical to say they are "serving" time they are actively evading.
The central fear driving this argument is a practical one: creating a loophole that undermines the entire purpose of post-prison supervision. If the clock keeps running while someone is a fugitive, a person could simply disappear for the last few months of their term and face no consequences for absconding or any other crimes they commit during that time. They could literally "wait out" their sentence from a hiding place, rendering the court's judgment meaningless. The government contends that Congress created supervised release to protect the public and rehabilitate offenders, and allowing people to unilaterally opt-out by running away defeats both of those goals. They believe the system must have an inherent, common-sense rule that you cannot get credit for a sentence you refuse to serve.
To justify this position without a specific law that spells it out, the government asks the Court to look at the structure and purpose of the supervised release statutes. They argue that the laws detailing the duties of probation officers and the requirements for offenders all presume an active, ongoing relationship. When a person deliberately severs that relationship, the system breaks down. They are not being monitored, they are not receiving assistance, and they are not being held accountable. The government claims that this breakdown is a failure to serve the sentence, which logically must stop the clock. They also argue that for the first decade of supervised release, there was no other legal tool for courts to handle fugitives who ran out the clock, which suggests Congress must have assumed this traditional "fugitive tolling" principle would apply.
Finally, the government addresses the tricky logical puzzle of whether a person can be simultaneously "off the clock" for serving their sentence but still "on the hook" for violating its rules. Several justices challenged this as a contradiction, like wanting to have it both ways. The government's response is that tolling the sentence does not grant a person a "vacation" from their legal obligations. The clock stops on the credit they receive toward completing their sentence, but the court-ordered conditions—like not committing new crimes—remain in full effect. Just as a prisoner who escapes is still considered a prisoner and can be punished for crimes committed while on the run, a person on supervised release who absconds is still bound by the rules of their release, even if they aren't earning time-served credit while they hide.