I didn’t think a case about old bomb shells would hit me like this. But here we are. Morissette v. United States is a Supreme Court case from 1952, and it’s one I keep coming back to. It’s simple on the surface. It’s also sneaky deep.
And yes, it’s about intent. That little voice that asks, “Did you mean to do wrong?”
So what happened? The quick story
A man named Morissette walked onto an Air Force practice range. He found big, empty bomb casings. They were rusty and abandoned. Folks had been picking them up for years. He believed they were junk. He took them, flattened them, and sold the metal for about $84.
He got charged for taking government property. At trial, the judge told the jury that his intent didn’t matter. Just the act mattered. He was convicted.
The Supreme Court said, not so fast. Justice Jackson wrote the opinion. The Court said that for crimes like this, the government has to prove the person had a “guilty mind.” That’s called mens rea.
That’s the core. Sounds neat, right?
Why it mattered to me
I like rules I can use in real life. This one helps me sort stories I hear all the time. Did someone actually mean to steal? Or did they make an honest mistake?
- “Curb alert” stuff left on the sidewalk. Was it trash? Was it held for pickup? Signs help. Words help. Intent matters.
- Self-checkout mistakes. Was it a mis-scan or a plan? The machine can’t tell. Humans try to.
- Community cleanups. People grab “junk” from empty lots. Who owns what? Again, it depends on what they thought and why they thought it.
You know what? That tiny word—intent—changes everything.
If you want another engaging take on how intent shapes our everyday judgments, check out Neck Deep, a narrative that threads legal principles through stories you won't forget.
The lesson you can carry in your pocket
Here’s the thing. Morissette says we don’t toss out intent for classic crimes like theft just because Congress didn’t spell it out. If a statute reads like a traditional crime, we expect a mental element. We expect proof of a guilty mind.
That two-part structure—requiring both the act (actus reus) and the mental state, or mens rea—is exactly what the Cornell Legal Information Institute summarizes when it explains the backbone of criminal liability.
The Court did leave room for special cases. Think public safety stuff: mislabeled food, certain traffic-type fines, things like that. For those, sometimes intent isn’t required. But felony-level theft? You don’t skip intent there.
Real examples that made this click
- From the case itself: Morissette sold the scrap for about $84. Not a fortune. He said he truly thought it was abandoned. The jury wasn’t allowed to weigh that. The Supreme Court said the jury should have.
- A modern twist I keep seeing: Someone picks up a “free” dresser from the curb. Later, the owner says, “Hey, that wasn’t free!” Now what? With Morissette in mind, you look at signals: Was there a sign? What do neighbors do on that block? Was the item placed like trash or like storage? These facts go to what the person believed. And why that belief was reasonable—or not.
- Workplace angle: A warehouse posts “Do Not Remove” on pallets. A worker takes some old ones after a remodel. If the place has a custom of giving away scrap, that history matters. Clear signs matter too. Again, intent.
- Online classifieds: Local boards that popped up after the original Backpage shut down show just how murky intent can be. If you browse Backpage Peoria, you’ll notice how each post’s wording, category choice, and disclaimer tries to signal exactly what is—or isn’t—being offered, giving you a real-time look at how people attempt to clarify intent in digital marketplaces.
None of this is legal advice. It’s just how this case helps me think straight.
What I loved (and what bugged me)
The good stuff:
- The rule is clean: for major crimes, the mind matters.
- The writing is clear for a Supreme Court opinion. Justice Jackson keeps it steady. That clarity later showed up again in cases like Old Chief v. United States, where the Court fine-tuned what the jury should and shouldn’t hear.
- It’s a great teaching tool. One story. One rule. You feel the fairness point.
The not-so-good:
- It’s old. The facts feel dated. Bomb casings aren’t a daily thing for most of us.
- It can mislead beginners. Some offenses really don’t need intent. If you miss that carve-out, you’ll overread the case.
- The trial piece is a little dry. The jury instruction part—where the judge boxed out intent—can feel like a slog.
How I make sense of it fast
- Read the facts first, slow and careful. Picture the field. Picture the rust.
- Circle the verbs in your head: take, know, believe, sell. Verbs point to intent.
- Say the rule in one sentence: When a law looks like a classic theft law, the government has to prove a guilty mind—unless it’s one of those special safety-type laws.
- Then stress-test it. Ask: Would the same rule work for speeding? For mislabeled canned goods? Often, no. That’s your line. And if you want to see how substantive rules can collide with procedural limits, take a look at Gamble v. United States, a double-jeopardy decision that shows how far separate prosecutions can stretch.
One small digression: Why stories like this feel fair
We all know the kid who picked up a lost glove and turned it in. And the kid who hid the glove and laughed. Same act, different mind. Most folks can feel that difference. Morissette puts that feeling into law.
It sounds soft. It’s not. It’s a standard that asks for proof. Proof of the mind, not just the hands.
Who should read this case
- Students who want a clean intro to mens rea
- Teachers who need a story that sticks
- Journalists covering theft or “I thought it was trash” cases
- Anyone who loves those “Is this fair?” debates you see on TikTok or at the dinner table
Online forums and real-time chat rooms can also spark sharp debates about moral culpability across cultures; a bustling example is the InstantChat Asian room, where participants share cross-cultural perspectives on fairness, intent, and everyday moral dilemmas.
My verdict
Morissette v. United States gets a strong yes from me. It’s not flashy. But it’s sturdy. It gives you a simple test you can use in tough, messy facts. I give it a 9/10.
It won’t solve every case. But it will keep you from skipping the one question that matters most: What did the person mean to do?