Title: People v. Buza

State: california

Issuer: California Supreme Court

Document:

SEE DISSENTING OPINIONS 
Filed 4/2/18 
 
 
 
IN THE SUPREME COURT OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 
 
THE PEOPLE, 
) 
 
 
) 
 
Plaintiff and Respondent, 
) 
 
 
) 
S223698 
 
v. 
) 
 
 
) 
Ct.App. 1/2 A125542 
MARK BUZA, 
) 
 
) 
San Francisco County 
 
Defendant and Appellant. 
) 
Super. Ct. No. SCN 207818 
 
____________________________________) 
 
In 2004, California voters passed Proposition 69 (Prop. 69, as approved by 
voters, Gen. Elec. (Nov. 2, 2004); known as the “DNA Fingerprint, Unsolved 
Crime and Innocence Protection Act” (DNA Act)) to expand existing requirements 
for the collection of DNA identification information for law enforcement 
purposes.  The DNA Act requires law enforcement officials to collect DNA 
samples, as well as fingerprints, from all persons who are arrested for, as well as 
those who have been convicted of, felony offenses.  (Pen. Code, § 296.1, subd. 
(a)(1)(A).) 
Defendant Mark Buza was arrested for arson and related felonies and 
transported to jail.  At booking, a jail official informed defendant that he was 
required to provide a DNA sample by swabbing the inside of his cheek.  He 
refused.  A jury later convicted him of both the arson-related felonies and the 
misdemeanor offense of refusing to provide a specimen required by the DNA Act.  
(Pen. Code, § 298.1, subd. (a).) 
2 
The Court of Appeal reversed defendant’s misdemeanor refusal conviction, 
holding that the DNA Act violated defendant’s rights under the Fourth 
Amendment to the United States Constitution.  While the case was pending on 
appeal, the United States Supreme Court addressed a similar issue in Maryland v. 
King (2013) 569 U.S. 435 (King), and reached a different conclusion.  The high 
court held that “[w]hen officers make an arrest supported by probable cause to 
hold for a serious offense and they bring the suspect to the station to be detained in 
custody, taking and analyzing a cheek swab of the arrestee’s DNA is, like 
fingerprinting and photographing, a legitimate police booking procedure that is 
reasonable under the Fourth Amendment.”  (Id. at pp. 465–466.) 
Following the high court’s decision in King, this case returned to the Court 
of Appeal.  On remand, the Court of Appeal again reversed defendant’s 
misdemeanor refusal conviction, this time on the ground that the DNA Act 
violates the California Constitution’s prohibition on unreasonable searches and 
seizures.  (Cal. Const., art. I, § 13.) 
Defendant raises a number of questions about the constitutionality of the 
DNA Act as it applies to various classes of felony arrestees.  But the question 
before us is a narrower one:  Whether the statute’s DNA collection requirement is 
valid as applied to an individual who, like defendant, was validly arrested on 
“probable cause to hold for a serious offense”—here, the felony arson charge for 
which defendant was ultimately convicted—and who was required to swab his 
cheek as “part of a routine booking procedure” at county jail.  (King, supra, 569 
U.S. at p. 465.)  Under the circumstances before us, we conclude the requirement 
is valid under both the federal and state Constitutions, and we express no view on 
the constitutionality of the DNA Act as it applies to other classes of arrestees.  We 
accordingly reverse the judgment of the Court of Appeal in this case. 
3 
I. 
 
A. 
For decades before the DNA Act, California law had required the collection 
of biological samples from individuals convicted of certain offenses.  In 1983, the 
Legislature enacted legislation requiring certain sex offenders to provide blood 
and saliva samples before their release or discharge.  (Stats. 1983, ch. 700, § 1, 
pp. 2680–2681, codified at Pen. Code, former § 290.2.)  In 1998, the Legislature 
enacted the “DNA and Forensic Identification Data Base and Data Bank Act,” 
which required the collection of DNA samples from persons convicted of certain 
felony offenses, including certain sex offenses, homicide offenses, kidnapping, 
and felony assault or battery.  (Stats. 1998, ch. 696, § 2, pp. 4574–4579; Pen. 
Code, former § 296, subd. (a).) 
When the California electorate voted to pass Proposition 69 on the 2004 
general election ballot, it substantially expanded the scope of DNA sampling to 
include individuals who are arrested for any felony offense, as well as those who 
have been convicted of such an offense.  In People v. Robinson (2010) 47 Cal.4th 
1104 (Robinson), this court upheld the expanded DNA collection requirement as 
applied to persons convicted of felony offenses.  The question now before us 
concerns the application of the DNA Act to persons who have been arrested for, 
but not yet convicted of, a felony offense. 
In its statutory findings and declarations of purpose, Proposition 69 
explained that expansion of the DNA databank program was warranted to serve a 
“critical and urgent need to provide law enforcement officers and agencies with 
the latest scientific technology available for accurately and expeditiously 
identifying, apprehending, arresting, and convicting criminal offenders and 
exonerating persons wrongly suspected or accused of crime.”  (Prop. 69, supra, 
4 
§ II, subd. (b).)  With respect to arrestees in particular, Proposition 69 declared:  
“The state has a compelling interest in the accurate identification of criminal 
offenders”; that “DNA testing at the earliest stages of criminal proceedings for 
felony offenses will help thwart criminal perpetrators from concealing their 
identities and thus prevent time-consuming and expensive investigations of 
innocent persons”; and “it is reasonable to expect qualifying offenders to provide 
forensic DNA samples for the limited identification purposes set forth in this 
chapter.”  (Id., § II, subds. (e), (f).)  
The DNA Act provides that, as of January 1, 2009, all adult felony arrestees 
“shall provide buccal swab samples, right thumbprints, and a full palm print 
impression of each hand, and any blood specimens or other biological samples 
required pursuant to this chapter for law enforcement identification analysis.”  
(Pen. Code, § 296, subd. (a).)  Providing a buccal swab sample requires the 
arrestee to apply a swab to the inside of his or her cheek to collect the “inner cheek 
cells of the mouth,” which contain DNA.  (Id., § 295, subd. (e).)  The statute 
provides that these specimens, samples, and print impressions shall be collected 
“immediately following arrest, or during the booking . . . process or as soon as 
administratively practicable . . . but, in any case, prior to release on bail or pending 
trial or any physical release from confinement or custody.”  (Id., § 296.1, subd. 
(a)(1)(A).)  Refusal to provide any of the required specimens is punishable as a 
misdemeanor.  (Id., § 298.1, subd. (a).) 
Collected DNA samples are sent to California Department of Justice’s 
DNA Laboratory for forensic analysis.  (Pen. Code, §§ 295, subds. (f), (g), 
(i)(1)(C), 295.1, subd. (c).)  The laboratory uses the samples to create a unique 
DNA identification profile, using genetic loci that are known as “junk” or 
“noncoding” DNA, because the loci have no known association with any genetic 
trait, disease, or predisposition.  (See King, supra, 569 U.S. at pp. 442–443, 445.)  
5 
This profile is stored in California’s DNA databank.  California’s DNA databank 
is part of the Combined DNA Index System (CODIS), a nationwide database that 
enables law enforcement to search DNA profiles collected from federal, state, and 
local collection programs.  (See ibid.; Pen. Code, § 299.6, subd. (b); Cal. Dept. of 
Justice (DOJ), Bureau of Forensic Services (BFS), Laboratory Services, DNA 
Analysis,  [as of Apr. 2, 2018].)  DNA profiles 
stored by the DNA Laboratory may be accessed by law enforcement agencies.  
(Pen. Code, § 299.5, subd. (f).)  The DNA Laboratory must “store, compile, 
correlate, compare, maintain, and use” DNA profiles for forensic casework, for 
comparison with samples found at crime scenes, and for identification of missing 
persons.  (Id., § 295.1, subd. (c).)   
Information obtained from an arrestee’s DNA is confidential and may not 
be disclosed to the public.  (Pen. Code, § 299.5.)  DNA samples and the biological 
material from which they are obtained may not be used “as a source of genetic 
material for testing, research, or experiments, by any person, agency, or entity 
seeking to find a causal link between genetics and behavior or health.”  (Id., 
§ 295.2.)  Any person who knowingly uses a DNA sample or profile for any 
purpose other than “criminal identification or exclusion purposes” or “the 
identification of missing persons,” or who “knowingly discloses DNA or other 
forensic identification information . . . to an unauthorized individual or agency” 
for any unauthorized reason is subject to criminal prosecution and may be 
imprisoned for up to three years and fined up to $10,000.  (Id., § 299.5, subd. 
(i)(1).)  The Department of Justice is also subject to civil damages for knowing 
misuse of a sample or profile by any of its employees.  (Id., § 299.5, subd. 
(i)(2)(A).)   
The DNA Act provides that if an arrestee is cleared of charges and there is 
no other basis for keeping the information, the arrestee “shall have his or her DNA 
6 
specimen and sample destroyed and searchable database profile expunged from 
the databank program.”  (Pen. Code, § 299, subd. (a).)  An arrestee may request 
expungement if he or she is released without being charged, if all qualifying 
charges against the arrestee are dismissed, or if the arrestee is found not guilty or 
factually innocent of all qualifying charges.  (Id., § 299, subd. (b).)  The federal 
legislation establishing CODIS likewise requires participating states to “promptly 
expunge” the DNA profile of any person who is cleared of qualifying charges.  (34 
U.S.C. § 12592(d)(2)(A).) 
The DNA Act includes a broad severability provision.  The provision 
specifies that the invalidity of certain provisions or their application “shall not 
affect other provisions or applications that can be given effect without the invalid 
provision or application.”  (Prop. 69, supra, § V, subd. (b).)  
B. 
On the afternoon of January 21, 2009, a San Francisco police officer saw 
defendant running away from a police car that had burning tires.  Police found 
defendant hiding nearby and searched him.  Matches were found in defendant’s 
pocket, a container of oil was found in his backpack, and a road flare and a bottle 
containing a liquid that smelled like gasoline were discovered in the area where he 
had been hiding. 
Defendant was arrested and taken to county jail.  There, several hours after 
the initial arrest, a San Francisco sheriff’s deputy asked defendant to swab the 
inside of his cheek for purposes of providing a sample of his DNA.  The deputy 
told defendant he was required by law to provide the sample, asked defendant to 
read a form that described the pertinent requirements, and warned defendant that 
refusing to provide a DNA sample was a misdemeanor.  Defendant refused. 
On January 22, 2009, a judge of the Superior Court found probable cause to 
believe that defendant committed a public offense for which he could be detained, 
7 
namely, felony arson in violation of Penal Code section 451, subdivision (d).  The 
next day, the district attorney filed a felony complaint charging defendant with 
that offense, as well as possession of combustible material or incendiary device 
(id., § 453, subd. (a)), and vandalism (id., § 594, subd. (b)(1)).  The complaint also 
charged defendant with misdemeanor refusal to provide a DNA specimen (id., 
§ 298.1, subd. (a)).  Defendant was arraigned on the same day and pleaded not 
guilty to the charges. 
Approximately three months later, defendant was tried before a jury.  
Defendant moved for judgment of acquittal on the misdemeanor refusal charge, 
arguing that the Fourth Amendment did not permit the state to compel arrestees to 
furnish DNA samples.  The court denied the motion.  At trial, defendant admitted 
to setting the police car on fire; he testified that while he regarded setting the fires 
as a justified protest against government overreach, he knew his act was regarded 
as illegal.  Defendant also admitted to refusing to provide a DNA sample in 
accordance with Penal Code section 298.1.  The jury convicted defendant of all 
charges. 
The trial court ordered defendant to provide a DNA sample before he was 
sentenced, and when defendant initially refused to comply with the order, the court 
authorized the Sheriff’s Department to use reasonable force to obtain the sample.  
Defendant then furnished a DNA sample.  The court sentenced defendant to a 
prison term of 16 months on the arson charge, imposed concurrent sentences on 
the charges of possession of combustible material and misdemeanor refusal to 
provide a DNA specimen, and stayed the sentence on the vandalism charge under 
Penal Code section 654.  
On appeal, the Court of Appeal reversed defendant’s conviction for 
refusing to provide a DNA sample.  The court held that “the DNA Act, to the 
extent it requires felony arrestees to submit a DNA sample for law enforcement 
8 
analysis and inclusion in the state and federal DNA databases, without 
independent suspicion, a warrant or even a judicial or grand jury determination of 
probable cause, unreasonably intrudes on such arrestees’ expectation of privacy 
and is invalid under the Fourth Amendment of the United States Constitution.” 
We granted review.  While the case was still pending, the United States 
Supreme Court issued its decision in King, supra, which upheld a similar DNA 
collection requirement against Fourth Amendment challenge.  Following King, we 
transferred this case to the Court of Appeal for reconsideration. 
The Court of Appeal again reversed defendant’s conviction.  Although the 
court observed that California’s DNA collection law is broader than the Maryland 
law at issue in King, the court declined to decide whether the differences between 
the California law and the Maryland law change the Fourth Amendment calculus 
under King.  The Court of Appeal instead rested its decision on the prohibition on 
unreasonable searches and seizures in article I, section 13 of the California 
Constitution.  In language closely paralleling its initial decision, the court held that 
“the DNA Act, to the extent it requires felony arrestees to submit a DNA sample 
for law enforcement analysis and inclusion in the state and federal DNA 
databases, without independent suspicion, a warrant or even a judicial or grand 
jury determination of probable cause, unreasonably intrudes on such arrestees’ 
expectation of privacy and is invalid under article I, section 13, of the 
Constitution.” 
In the wake of King, other California Courts of Appeal have addressed the 
constitutionality of the DNA Act in the context of reviewing decisions regarding 
the suppression of evidence derived from DNA samples collected from felony 
arrestees.  Those courts have concluded that, under King’s reasoning, the 
collection and testing of arrestee DNA samples under the DNA Act does not 
violate the Fourth Amendment. 
9 
We granted review to decide whether the collection and analysis of forensic 
identification DNA database samples from felony arrestees, as required by 
Proposition 69, violates either article I, section 13 of the California Constitution or 
the Fourth Amendment to the United States Constitution.1 
II.  
The Fourth Amendment to the United States Constitution provides, in 
pertinent part:  “The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, 
papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be 
violated.”  Article I, section 13 of the California Constitution provides, in 
essentially identical language:  “The right of the people to be secure in their 
persons, houses, papers, and effects against unreasonable seizures and searches 
may not be violated.” 
As the constitutional language itself makes plain, the “touchstone for all 
issues” under both provisions is “reasonableness.”  (Ingersoll v. Palmer (1987) 43 
Cal.3d 1321, 1329; accord, e.g., Riley v. California (2014) 573 U.S. ___, ___ [134 
S.Ct. 2473, 2482].)  The question before us is whether it was unreasonable within 
the meaning of one or both of these provisions to require defendant to use a cheek 
swab to provide a DNA sample to jail officials as part of the booking process 
following his arrest for arson.  If so, defendant cannot be penalized for failure to 
comply, and his misdemeanor refusal conviction must be reversed.  If, on the other 
hand, the requirement was reasonable, then defendant’s conviction stands.  (See 
                                              
1  
Defendant did not invoke the California Constitution in the trial court or in 
his first round of appellate briefing, instead relying solely on the Fourth 
Amendment.  The Court of Appeal, however, relied on the California Constitution 
in its decision on remand after King.  We accordingly address the questions raised 
under both the Fourth Amendment and article I, section 13 of the California 
Constitution. 
10 
Birchfield v. North Dakota (2016) 579 U.S. ___, ___–___ [136 S.Ct. 2160, 2172–
2173].) 
The United States Supreme Court’s decision in King, which was issued 
while this appeal was pending, has significantly altered the terms of the debate.  
After King, defendant no longer argues, as he had argued in the courts below, that 
the Fourth Amendment categorically forbids the mandatory collection of DNA 
from persons who have been arrested but not yet convicted of felony offenses.  
Defendant argues instead that King should be either distinguished on its facts or 
rejected as a matter of state constitutional law.  Because both arguments require us 
to consider the import of the United States Supreme Court’s decision in King, we 
will begin there. 
A. 
King came to the high court against the backdrop of increasingly 
widespread use of DNA technology in criminal justice systems nationwide.  As 
the court observed, all 50 states and the federal government require the collection 
of DNA samples from individuals who are convicted of felony offenses.  In recent 
years, a majority of states and the federal government have also authorized the 
collection of DNA from some or all persons arrested for felony offenses.  (King, 
supra, 569 U.S. at p. 445.)  Although courts had generally approved the collection 
of DNA samples following conviction, the permissibility of this expansion of 
DNA sampling proved more controversial.  The high court granted review in King 
to resolve a conflict among federal and state courts “as to whether the Fourth 
Amendment prohibits the collection and analysis of a DNA sample from persons 
arrested, but not yet convicted, on felony charges.”  (Id. at p. 442.) 
The specific question before the court concerned the application of a 
Maryland law that authorized law enforcement authorities to collect DNA samples 
from an individual charged with certain statutorily defined “crime[s] of violence,” 
11 
including murder, rape, first degree assault, kidnapping, arson, and sexual assault, 
as well as burglary and an attempt to commit one of these enumerated crimes.  
(King, supra, 569 U.S. at p. 443.)  The defendant in King had been arrested and 
charged with one such offense, “first- and second-degree assault for menacing a 
group of people with a shotgun.”  (Id. at p. 440.)  The same day, his cheek was 
swabbed for DNA as part of the booking process.  The sample matched DNA that 
had been collected from a rape victim several years earlier, and the defendant was 
charged with and convicted of the rape.  Appealing that conviction, defendant 
argued that the DNA sample had been taken in violation of his Fourth Amendment 
rights and should have been suppressed.  The Maryland Court of Appeals agreed 
and overturned the rape conviction.  (Ibid.) 
The United States Supreme Court reversed.  The high court agreed with the 
Maryland court that a buccal swab for the collection of DNA samples—like any 
invasion of the body—is a search within the meaning of the Fourth Amendment, 
“gentle” though the search may be.  (King, supra, 569 U.S. at p. 446.)  But the 
court held that both the initial collection of a DNA sample and its subsequent 
processing pursuant to CODIS procedures is, “like fingerprinting and 
photographing, a legitimate police booking procedure that is reasonable under the 
Fourth Amendment.”  (Id. at p. 466.) 
The high court explained that, as a general rule, a search is presumptively 
unreasonable if it is undertaken in the absence of a warrant or individualized 
suspicion of wrongdoing.  (Vernonia School Dist. 47J v. Acton (1995) 515 U.S. 
646, 652–653.)  But “[i]n some circumstances, such as ‘[w]hen faced with special 
law enforcement needs, diminished expectations of privacy, minimal intrusions, or 
the like, the Court has found that certain general, or individual, circumstances may 
render a warrantless search or seizure reasonable.’ ”  (King, supra, 569 U.S. at 
p. 447, quoting Illinois v. McArthur (2001) 531 U.S. 326, 330.)  The court 
12 
concluded that the buccal swab of an arrestee on booking falls into a category of 
routine searches, justified by special law enforcement needs, that is properly 
analyzed “by reference to the proposition that the ‘touchstone of the Fourth 
Amendment is reasonableness, not individualized suspicion.’ ”  (King, at p. 448.) 
Weighing the privacy-related concerns at stake against law enforcement 
needs, the court concluded that the search was reasonable.  On the law 
enforcement side of the balance, the court identified five interrelated governmental 
interests in obtaining the DNA sample.  First, the court explained, the state has an 
interest in knowing “ ‘who has been arrested and who is being tried.’ ”  (King, 
supra, 469 U.S. at p. 450, quoting Hiibel v. Sixth Judicial Dist. Court of Nev., 
Humboldt County (2004) 542 U.S. 177, 191.)  “A suspect’s criminal history,” the 
high court continued, “is a critical part of his identity that officers should know 
when processing him for detention,” and “[a] DNA profile is useful to the police 
because it gives them a form of identification to search the records already in their 
valid possession” for the suspect’s criminal history.  (King, at pp. 450–451.)  In 
this respect, the court said, the profile serves the same purpose as a name or 
fingerprints.  (Id. at p. 451.)  Second, the high court reasoned, “DNA identification 
can provide untainted information to those charged with detaining suspects and 
detaining the property of any felon,” which is significant because “officers must 
know the type of person whom they are detaining, and DNA allows them to make 
critical choices about how to proceed.”  (Id. at p. 452.)  Third, the court noted, 
using DNA samples to determine whether the accused has committed other crimes 
furthers the state’s “ ‘substantial interest in ensuring that persons accused of 
crimes are available for trials.’ ”  (Ibid.)  This is so, it said, because “[a] person 
who is arrested for one offense but knows that he has yet to answer for some past 
crime may be more inclined to flee the instant charges,” thereby presenting “a risk 
to law enforcement officers, other detainees, victims of previous crimes, 
13 
witnesses, and society at large.”  (Id. at p. 453.)  Fourth, the court explained, “an 
arrestee’s past conduct is essential to an assessment of the danger he poses to the 
public,” which may determine “whether the individual should be released on bail.”  
(Ibid.)  And fifth, the court noted, “the identification of an arrestee as the 
perpetrator of some heinous crime may have the salutary effect of freeing a person 
wrongfully imprisoned for the same offense.”  (Id. at p. 455.) 
Law enforcement agencies, the court explained, “routinely have used 
scientific advancements in their standard procedures for the identification of 
arrestees” (King, supra, 569 U.S. at p. 456), including photographs, body 
measurements, and fingerprints.  The court observed that fingerprinting, in 
particular, is “[p]erhaps the most direct historical analogue to the DNA 
technology” at issue in the case (id. at p. 458):  fingerprints have long been taken 
for purposes of comparison to identify suspects and for purposes of matching them 
to fingerprints taken from the scene of unsolved crimes, and electronic databases 
are now available that facilitate the comparison (id. at pp. 436, 458–459).  DNA 
identification, the court noted, is a “markedly more accurate form of identifying 
arrestees” and the “additional intrusion upon the arrestee’s privacy beyond that 
associated with fingerprinting is not significant.”  (Id. at p. 459.)  “DNA 
identification,” the court reasoned, “is an advanced technique superior to 
fingerprinting in many ways, so much so that to insist on fingerprints as the norm 
would make little sense to either the forensic expert or a layperson.”  (Ibid.)   
Compared to this set of governmental interests, the high court concluded 
that the privacy interests at stake were more limited.  To begin with, the court 
explained, the buccal swab used to obtain a DNA sample is a “minimal intrusion.”  
(King, supra, 569 U.S. at p. 463.)  Moreover, the court noted, “[o]nce an 
individual has been arrested on probable cause for a dangerous offense that may 
require detention before trial,” that person has a diminished expectation of privacy 
14 
and “freedom from police scrutiny.”  (Ibid.)  This diminished expectation 
distinguishes arrestee searches from “the sort of programmatic searches of either 
the public at large or a particular class of regulated but otherwise law-abiding 
citizens” (id. at p. 462), such as checkpoint searches or the drug testing of political 
candidates, for which the court has “insisted on some purpose other than ‘to detect 
evidence of ordinary criminal wrongdoing.’ ”  (Id. at p. 463.)  
The high court further concluded that analysis of the DNA sample, once 
collected, does not result in a privacy intrusion that violates the federal 
Constitution.  (King, supra, 569 U.S. at p. 464.)  It explained that the processed 
DNA loci “come from noncoding parts of the DNA that do not reveal the genetic 
traits of the arrestee” and that “law enforcement officers analyze DNA for the sole 
purpose of generating a unique identifying number against which future samples 
may be matched.”  (Ibid.)  It also noted that Maryland’s DNA law “provides 
statutory protections that guard against further invasion of privacy” (id. at p. 465.); 
in the court’s view, these statutory protections allayed the privacy concerns 
associated with the state’s analysis of the DNA sample (ibid., citing NASA v. 
Nelson (2011) 562 U.S.___, ___ [131 S.Ct. 746, 750]). 
For these reasons, the court held that “[w]hen officers make an arrest 
supported by probable cause to hold for a serious offense and they bring the 
suspect to the station to be detained in custody, taking and analyzing a cheek swab 
of the arrestee’s DNA is, like fingerprinting and photographing, a legitimate police 
booking procedure that is reasonable under the Fourth Amendment.”  (King, 
supra, 569 U.S. at pp. 465–466.) 
B. 
At least at first glance, King would seem to resolve the Fourth Amendment 
question raised in this case.  King holds that DNA identification of arrestees is 
reasonable on booking following an arrest supported by probable cause to believe 
15 
the arrestee has committed a serious offense.  Defendant in this case was asked to 
provide a cheek swab as part of a routine booking procedure following an arrest 
supported by probable cause to believe he had committed a serious offense—
namely, felony arson. 
Defendant urges us to take a second look, however.  He notes that while 
California’s legal framework for the collection, analysis, and retention of arrestee 
DNA is in many ways similar to the Maryland law upheld in King, it is not 
identical.  Defendant highlights three features of the DNA Act in particular that, in 
his view, distinguish this case from King:  (1) the DNA Act applies to a broader 
category of arrestees than the Maryland law; (2) the DNA Act, unlike the 
Maryland law, authorizes both collection and testing of DNA samples before an 
accusatory pleading is filed in court and before a judicial determination has been 
made that the charges are valid; and (3) the DNA Act, unlike the Maryland law, 
does not provide for automatic destruction of the DNA sample if the arrestee is 
cleared of felony charges. 
Although these differences between the California and Maryland laws may 
be relevant in another case involving a differently situated arrestee, this case 
involves a defendant who was validly arrested on probable cause to believe he had 
committed felony arson, and who was promptly charged with (and ultimately 
convicted of) that offense.  In the context of the particular case before us, we 
conclude that none of the differences to which defendant points meaningfully 
alters the constitutional balance struck in King. 
We begin with defendant’s first argument, about the scope of the DNA 
Act’s collection requirement.  Defendant observes that the Maryland law at issue 
in King authorized DNA collection only from those accused of specified serious 
crimes, including a category defined as “crime[s] of violence” under state law, 
whereas the DNA Act authorizes DNA collection from all felony arrestees.  (King, 
16 
supra, 569 U.S. at p. 443.)  Defendant argues that this difference is important 
because the seriousness of the crime of arrest figures prominently in the high 
court’s balancing analysis:  The high court’s opinion states that “the necessary 
predicate of a valid arrest for a serious offense is fundamental” (id. at p. 461), and 
elsewhere uses language that suggests the court was particularly concerned with 
persons arrested for “violent” or “dangerous” crimes (id. at pp. 453, 455).  Such a 
limitation makes sense, defendant contends, because such crimes are the kinds of 
crimes that typically yield DNA evidence. 
Defendant appears to read too much into the language on which he relies.  
The high court identified the question before it more generally as “whether the 
Fourth Amendment prohibits the collection and analysis of a DNA sample from 
persons arrested, but not yet convicted, on felony charges.”  (King, supra, 569 
U.S. at p. 442.)  And as a matter of ordinary usage, a felony is considered a 
“serious” offense.  (See, e.g., Carachuri-Rosendo v. Holder (2010) 560 U.S. 563, 
574 [“A ‘felony,’ we have come to understand, is a ‘serious crime usu[ally] 
punishable by imprisonment for more than one year or by death.’ ”].)  Though the 
court also occasionally referred to “violent” and “dangerous” crimes, King did not 
purport to limit its holding to those felonies that happen to be classified as 
“violent” or “dangerous” as a matter of state law, nor did it purport to create a new 
classification of violent offenses as a matter of federal constitutional law.2 
                                              
2  
States are, of course, under no obligation to classify any particular set of 
crimes as “violent,” and different states often classify similar crimes differently.  
Such “interstate statutory differences do not control the meaning of the Fourth 
Amendment.”  (Robinson, supra, 47 Cal.4th at p. 1123; cf. Virginia v. Moore 
(2008) 553 U.S. 164, 176.)  Nor does there exist a body of federal constitutional 
law that might supply a relevant classification.  (Cf., e.g., Atwater v. City of Lago 
Vista (2001) 532 U.S. 318, 345 [declining to adopt a classification of “violent” 
misdemeanors for Fourth Amendment purposes].) 
17 
But in any event, even if the federal Constitution permitted states to 
mandate collection of DNA samples only from persons arrested for felonies 
classified as particularly serious or violent, defendant in this case was arrested for 
felony arson in violation of Penal Code section 451, subdivision (d), a crime that is 
classified as a “serious felony” under California law.  (See Pen. Code, § 1192.7, 
subd. (c)(14).)  Defendant does not dispute the characterization. 
Defendant’s argument would thus seem to amount to a request that we 
reverse his conviction based not on any defect in the DNA Act’s application to his 
case, but based on the Act’s potential application to other, differently situated 
individuals.  This is more than he may reasonably ask.  The ordinary rule is “that 
one will not be heard to attack a statute on grounds that are not shown to be 
applicable to himself.”  (In re Cregler (1961) 56 Cal.2d 308, 313 (Cregler).)  This 
rule does have limited exceptions—most commonly invoked in free speech 
cases—but none is relevant here.  (Sabri v. United States (2004) 541 U.S. 600, 
609–610 (Sabri); see, e.g., United States v. Mitchell (3d Cir. 2011) 652 F.3d 387, 
415, fn. 26 (en banc) (Mitchell) [felony arrestee could not raise a successful facial 
challenge to federal DNA collection law on the ground that it applies to 
misdemeanor arrestees and is therefore overbroad]; cf. Rakas v. Illinois (1978) 439 
U.S. 128, 133–134 [“ ‘Fourth Amendment rights are personal rights which, like 
some other constitutional rights, may not be vicariously asserted.’ ”].)  Outside of 
these limited exceptions, and “absent a good reason, we do not extend an 
invitation to bring overbreadth claims.”  (Sabri, at p. 610.)  No such reason 
appears in this case.   
Defendant next points out that the Maryland law upheld in King permitted 
collection of a DNA sample only of arrestees “charged” with qualifying crimes 
(Md. Code Ann., Pub. Saf., § 2-504(b)(1)), and prohibited officials from testing 
the sample or loading the profile into the statewide database until after the arrestee 
18 
was arraigned and a judicial officer determined that the arrest was based on 
probable cause (id., § 2-504(d)(1)).  The DNA Act, by contrast, allows collection 
“immediately following arrest” and provides that the samples shall “immediately” 
be forwarded to the laboratory for analysis.  (Pen. Code, § 295(i)(1)(C).)  
Defendant argues that these differences in the time prescribed for the collection 
and testing of DNA samples tip the balance against their constitutionality. 
There are two elements to this argument:  one concerning the timing of the 
collection, the other concerning the timing of analysis.  As to the timing of 
collection, there is no reason to believe that the differences between California’s 
law and Maryland’s change the Fourth Amendment balance applicable in this 
case.  Although the text of the DNA Act does purport to authorize the collection 
“immediately following arrest,” that provision was not invoked and is not at issue 
here.  Rather, jail officials in this case sought to collect a sample of defendant’s 
DNA on booking, as part of the routine collection of identifying information.  And 
King, once again, upheld DNA collection as a “legitimate police booking 
procedure,” like fingerprinting or photographing, that enables jail officials to know 
whom they have taken into custody.  (King, supra, 569 U.S. at p. 466, italics 
added.)  King itself involved a sample collected on booking.  (Id. at p. 441; see 
King v. State (Md. 2012) 42 A.3d 549, 557.)3  And there are practical reasons for 
                                              
3  
In his brief, defendant read the Maryland law’s reference to arrestees 
“charged” with certain offenses as prohibiting the collection of DNA until a 
prosecutor decides whether to file qualifying charges following arrest.  (See Md. 
Code. Ann., Pub. Saf., § 2-504(b)(1).)  But the Attorney General notes that in 
Maryland, charges are often filed by the police officer, rather than the prosecutor.  
(Md. Rules, rule 4-211(b)(2).)  The high court’s opinion in King did not address 
the meaning or significance of this provision of the Maryland law; its analysis was 
focused not on the nature of the charging decision, but on the fact of an arrest 
supported by probable cause. 
19 
collecting the required DNA sample at the time of booking, along with taking 
photographs and fingerprints.  Among other things, if the arrestee is released 
pending adjudication, officials may not have another opportunity.  (See Mario W. 
v. Kaipio (Ariz. 2012) 281 P.3d 476, 482 [“If . . . a juvenile is released pending 
adjudication and later fails to appear for trial without previously having submitted 
a buccal sample, the opportunity to obtain a DNA profile for identification 
purposes will have been lost.  The State has an important interest in locating an 
absconding juvenile and, perhaps years after charges were filed, ascertaining that 
the person located is the one previously charged.”].) 
As to the second point, defendant argues that it is unreasonable for officials 
to proceed to test the DNA sample once collected, and to upload an arrestee’s 
profile to the state DNA databank, before a judicial officer has found probable 
cause to support the arrest or before charges have been filed.  Defendant argues 
that it is this step—the testing and recording of the arrestee’s DNA identification 
profile—that “represents the far greater intrusion upon privacy.”  And a provision 
like Maryland’s ensures that this step is not taken before there is third party 
confirmation that the defendant was validly arrested and that he or she will face 
legal process for a felony offense. 
 
 
20 
Defendant, who has never contested that his arrest was based on probable 
cause,4 made no similar argument in the trial court; he argued that it was 
impermissible to require him to submit a DNA sample at all, not that it was 
unreasonable to do so without a guarantee that the analysis of the sample would be 
delayed until probable cause was confirmed by a neutral magistrate or charges 
were filed.  We observe, however, that the reasoning of King itself does not lend 
substantial support to the argument that such a guarantee is required under these 
circumstances.  Again, King approved “DNA identification”—which necessarily 
involves both taking and analyzing the sample—as a “legitimate police booking 
procedure” that enables law enforcement to know whom they have in custody.  
(King, supra, 569 U.S. at pp. 465–466.)  That interest is one that attaches as soon 
as the suspect is “formally processed into police custody.”  (Id. at pp. 449–450.)  
The court attached no significance to the timing provision of the Maryland statute 
on which defendant relies.  The point was, rather, raised primarily in the dissenting 
opinion, which argued that delaying DNA testing until arraignment undermined 
the argument that the requirement qualifies as a reasonable booking procedure.  
(Id. at pp. 471–472 (dis. opn. of Scalia, J.).) 
Defendant contends that the timing of analysis nevertheless ought to figure 
in the equation because, as a practical matter, officers ordinarily will not receive a 
                                              
4  
On the contrary, it appears that defendant acknowledged from the outset 
that there was probable cause to arrest him.  While being placed in a patrol car at 
the scene, defendant spontaneously stated, “I didn’t think it would work” and 
noted that the officer who initially observed him in the act had “[p]erfect timing, 
him coming up the hill like that.”  According to his own testimony at trial, 
moreover, he anticipated he would be charged for his acts.  Justified as his protest 
was, he testified, he knew “how the legal system works” and that “[t]hey [we]re 
going to regard this as an illegal act.” 
 
21 
suspect’s DNA profile until well after booking in any event.  When officers make 
a warrantless arrest and take a suspect into custody, due process ordinarily 
requires that a judicial officer make a probable cause determination promptly after 
booking—ordinarily within 48 hours—to justify continued pretrial detention.  
(County of Riverside v. McLaughlin (1991) 500 U.S. 44, 58–59.)  (No such 
requirement applies if the arrestee is released from detention.  (In re Walters 
(1975) 15 Cal.3d 738, 743; see also Pen. Code, § 849, subd. (a).))  By contrast, 
defendant notes, in California it has typically taken much longer—at the time of 
briefing, an average of 30 days—to generate an identification profile from an 
arrestee’s DNA sample.  (See King, supra, 569 U.S. at p. 454 [citing the same 
statistic].)  Defendant argues that in view of the delays already associated with 
sample processing, it would pose a negligible burden for officials to postpone 
processing until a judge has determined whether probable cause exists and a 
prosecutor has decided whether to file charges. 
Defendant’s point about average processing times is not one that escaped 
the high court’s notice in King; as noted, the court itself cited the same numbers.  
The court nevertheless concluded that DNA identification is a reasonable booking 
procedure, without suggesting that its reasonableness might vary depending on 
average processing times.  The reasons for this are not difficult to discern.  For one 
thing, individual DNA samples may be processed more quickly than average:  The 
court noted the states’ submission that some DNA identification samples in 
California have been processed significantly more quickly than others.  (King, 
supra, 569 U.S. at p. 454.)  Moreover, as is often the case in areas of fast-moving 
technological developments, average processing times are liable to change; the 
high court had been told that the technological capacity already exists to analyze 
DNA samples in a matter of minutes, rather than days or weeks, and that 
technology is likely to become more widespread in the near future.  (Id. at p. 460; 
22 
see Rapid DNA Act of 2017, Pub.L. No. 115-50 (Aug. 18, 2017) 131 Stat. 1001; 
see also 42 U.S.C. §§ 14131(a), 14135a.)  The court “[took] account of these 
technical advances” (King, at p. 460) in evaluating the reasonableness of DNA 
collection and testing as a means of “prompt identification” (id. at p. 459).  Given 
all this, we cannot proceed on the assumption that a rule delaying the collection or 
processing of samples until after a judicial probable cause finding or arraignment 
would pose no meaningful risk of interference with the central interest identified 
in King:  the accurate identification of arrestees who are taken into police custody. 
Defendant argues, not unreasonably, that we should decide this case in light 
of the conditions that prevailed at the time he refused to provide the sample, not in 
light of technological advances that might make it possible to process DNA 
samples more quickly in the future.  But considering the matter from this vantage 
point does not help defendant’s case.  If we assume that defendant’s sample would 
not have been processed significantly faster than the average of 30 days, as 
defendant would have us do, then we would also be bound to conclude that 
defendant would have, de facto, received the very delay he seeks:  The record 
indicates that a judge found probable cause to support defendant’s felony arrest a 
little more than 24 hours after he was arrested, and he was arraigned within 48 
hours, as the law requires.  In a world of 30-day processing times, defendant’s 
sample would not have been processed, or his DNA profile uploaded to the state 
DNA databank, before these events occurred. 
Although defendant himself was charged and convicted, we acknowledge 
defendant’s concern about the collection of DNA samples from other individuals 
who are booked into custody but who ultimately will never be charged with a 
qualifying crime, or against whom qualifying charges will ultimately be dismissed.  
Voters responded to that concern by providing for a particular remedy—
expungement of the DNA sample and associated records—when the suspect is 
23 
cleared of qualifying charges.  As King illustrates, voters could also have chosen 
to require that all sample processing be postponed until after arraignment, 
regardless of technological capacity to proceed more quickly.  But given the basic 
logic of King, we cannot say that the choice voters made is one that undermines 
the reasonableness of the search in this case.   
Justice Liu suggests that for purposes of deciding reasonableness of an 
arrestee’s search, an arrest should not be considered valid until there has been a 
judicial determination of its validity.  (Dis. opn. of Liu, J., post, at pp. 1–2.)  There 
is, however, a meaningful difference between the requirement of a valid arrest and 
a requirement that a neutral magistrate make such a determination.  For example, 
in the related context of searches incident to arrest—where a valid arrest is also 
essential—there is no such preapproval requirement.  (See United States v. 
Robinson (1973) 414 U.S. 218, 219–224 [approving search of the person at time of 
valid arrest made without warrant]; People v. Brisendine (1975) 13 Cal.3d 528, 
532–534 (Brisendine) [approving search for weapons upon a warrantless arrest, 
under circumstances requiring prolonged proximity to arrestees].)  The arrestee 
may have an exclusionary remedy if the arrest is later determined to have been 
illegal (see 6 LaFave, Search and Seizure (5th ed. 2012) § 11.4(d), pp. 407–408), 
but the search’s reasonableness does not depend on prior judicial authorization for 
the arrest.  Here, there is no dispute that the arrest was valid.  To the extent the 
dissenting opinions argue for a prophylactic rule delaying the analysis of an 
arrestee’s DNA sample until probable cause for the arrest has been judicially 
determined, we again note that defendant raised no such argument in the trial court 
and we decline to decide the constitutional necessity of such a rule in a case in 
which probable cause has never been contested. 
This brings us to defendant’s final point, concerning the adequacy of the 
DNA Act’s expungement procedures.  As defendant notes, under the Maryland 
24 
law at issue in King, an arrestee who is later exonerated is entitled to automatic 
destruction of his or her DNA sample and associated records.  (King, supra, 569 
U.S. at pp. 443–444.)  Under the DNA Act, by contrast, an exonerated arrestee 
ordinarily must file a written request for expungement of DNA records.  (Pen. 
Code, § 299, subds. (a) & (b).)5  Provisions of the Act can be read to suggest, 
moreover, that a trial court may not act on such a request before 180 days have 
elapsed, and the court has unreviewable discretion to grant or deny the request.  
(Id., subd. (c)(1) & (c)(2)(D).)  Defendant argues that these provisions, by contrast 
to Maryland’s automatic destruction provisions, mean that a DNA profile can be 
generated and maintained in the state database even after a suspect’s arrest has 
been found to be mistaken or unlawful.  What is more, he argues, the provisions 
make it possible for the state to retain the DNA sample and associated records for 
an extended period of time—perhaps even indefinitely—after the prosecutor has 
declined to file or has dismissed charges, or after those charges have failed to yield 
a conviction.  In sum, defendant argues, the DNA Act’s expungement provisions 
are insufficient to protect the privacy rights of felony arrestees who are later found 
to have been wrongly arrested or who are cleared of wrongdoing. 
King does not speak directly to the issue defendant raises concerning the 
adequacy of the DNA Act’s expungement procedures.  Although the high court 
mentioned Maryland’s automatic destruction provisions in passing, it attached no 
significance to them in its constitutional analysis.  (King, supra, 569 U.S. at 
pp. 443–444.)  Rather, the court responded to privacy concerns about the state’s 
                                              
5  
A different provision of the DNA Act requires the Department of Justice 
DNA Laboratory to “remove [a] suspect sample from its databank files and 
databases” after two years upon confirmation that the “person is no longer a 
suspect in a criminal investigation.”  (Pen. Code, § 297, subd. (c)(2).)  The parties 
have not addressed the relevance of this provision, if any. 
25 
processing of DNA samples by emphasizing features of the Maryland law that are 
shared by California’s:  namely, the analysis of a sample involves the processing 
only of loci from “noncoding parts of the DNA that do not reveal the genetic traits 
of the arrestee,” and the law strictly prohibits the misuse of DNA records for any 
purpose other than identification.  (Id. at p. 464; see id. at p. 465; Pen. Code, 
§ 299.5.) 
The court’s failure to mention the expungement provisions does not 
necessarily mean that they are irrelevant to the constitutional analysis, however.  
To be sure, the retention of an arrestee’s fingerprints, photographs, and other 
identifying information in law enforcement files generally has not been thought to 
raise constitutional concerns, even though the arrestee may later be exonerated.  
(Loder v. Municipal Court (1976) 17 Cal.3d 859, 864–869; People v. McInnis 
(1972) 6 Cal.3d 821, 826.)  But the question defendant raises is whether, given the 
uniquely sensitive nature of DNA information, a different rule should apply here:  
one that calls not only for expungement, but for automatic expungement of an 
arrestee’s DNA sample, DNA identification profile, or both after an arrest has 
been shown to be invalid or after an arrestee is cleared of charges, or both. 
Whether the Fourth Amendment requires this added protection for the 
wrongly arrested or exonerated is, however, a question we must leave for another 
day, because defendant in this case is neither.  Defendant has not been found to 
have been wrongly arrested; indeed, he has never challenged the validity of his 
arrest.  Nor was he cleared of the charges that formed the basis for his arrest; he 
was promptly charged with that offense and was later convicted as charged.  
Although our dissenting colleagues argue otherwise (dis. opn. of Liu, J., post, at 
pp. 7–8; dis. opn of Cuéllar, J., post, at pp. 25–26), we are aware of no support for 
the proposition that an arrestee who, like defendant, has never claimed to be 
entitled to expungement, is nevertheless entitled to challenge the adequacy of 
26 
expungement procedures.  (See Mitchell, supra, 652 F.3d at p. 412 [arrestee who 
had never provided a sample and who had never sought expungement was “not in 
a position” to challenge the adequacy of the expungement provisions of the federal 
DNA collection statute].) 
Again, the ordinary rule is “that one will not be heard to attack a statute on 
grounds that are not shown to be applicable to himself.”  (Cregler, supra, 56 
Cal.2d at p. 313.)  Further, “a court will not consider every conceivable situation 
which might arise under the language of the statute and will not consider the 
question of constitutionality with reference to hypothetical situations.”  (Ibid.)  By 
focusing on the facts presented by the case before us, we avoid premature 
judgment of constitutional questions, including “ ‘premature interpretatio[n] of 
statutes’ on the basis of factually bare-bones records.”  (Sabri, supra, 541 U.S. at 
p. 609, quoting United States v. Raines (1960) 362 U.S. 17, 22.) 
Restraint is particularly warranted here because much of defendant’s 
argument depends on assertions about the workings of the expungement 
procedures that are as yet untested and unproved.  The record before us reveals 
nothing, for example, about how the expungement provisions operate in a case in 
which a judge finds no probable cause to support the arrest.  The statute does make 
clear that a person who is found to have been wrongly arrested is entitled to 
expungement:  it says that “a person who has no past or present qualifying 
offense” may make a request for expungement if, among other things, no 
qualifying charges have been filed “within the applicable period allowed by law” 
or if qualifying charges “have been dismissed prior to adjudication by a trier of 
fact.”  (Pen. Code, § 299, subd. (b)(1).)  But the requirement that the arrestee make 
a written request with supporting documentation from the court or the district 
attorney, for example, appears to be aimed at dispelling any doubt as to whether 
qualifying charges may still be filed against the arrestee.  (Id., § 299, subd. 
27 
(c)(2)(B).)  It is unclear whether or how this requirement would apply in a case in 
which a judge has ruled from the outset that the defendant’s felony arrest was 
unsupported by probable cause.   
Much the same is true about defendant’s concern that the state may 
indefinitely retain DNA information of a person who, though arrested, has been 
found innocent of any crime.  Defendant contends that a prosecutor may 
unilaterally block expungement by objecting for any reason, and a trial court 
likewise may deny expungement in its unconstrained discretion.  It is not clear that 
he is correct on either score.  It is true that the DNA Act describes a process that 
permits prosecutors to file objections to expungement (Pen. Code, § 299, subd. 
(c)(2)(D)), and speaks of trial court “discretion” to grant or deny an expungement 
request (id., § 299, subd. (c)(1)).  But the DNA Act also provides that if there is no 
other legal basis for retaining the information, an exonerated arrestee “shall have 
his or her DNA specimen and sample destroyed and searchable database profile 
expunged from the databank program.”  (Pen. Code, § 299, subd. (a), italics 
added.)  Federal law likewise provides that a state participating in CODIS “shall 
promptly expunge” from that database the DNA profile of any person who is later 
cleared of qualifying charges.  (34 U.S.C. § 12592(d)(2)(A).)  And to the extent 
there is any question about the proper interpretation of the statute, it might well be 
resolved by reference to the usual rule that a statute will be interpreted to avoid 
serious constitutional questions if such an interpretation is fairly possible.  (See, 
e.g., People v. Gutierrez (2014) 58 Cal.4th 1354, 1373.)  Whether legislation may 
deprive the appellate courts of all modes of reviewing a trial court’s order, as 
section 299, subdivision (c)(1) might appear to do, poses such a question.  (See 
Cal. Const., art VI, §§ 10, 11 [jurisdiction of appellate courts over appeals and 
writs]; Leone v. Medical Board (2000) 22 Cal.4th 660, 668 [Legislature may not 
28 
restrict appellate review in a manner that would substantially impair courts’ 
constitutional powers].)   
Nor does a trial court order appear to be a necessary prerequisite to 
expungement.  As the Attorney General points out, the California Department of 
Justice has created a “streamlined” process whereby eligible individuals may seek 
expungement directly from the Department, using a publicly available two-page 
form.6  Defendant does not question the Department’s authority to create this 
alternative, “streamlined” expungement process.  (See Pen. Code, § 295, subd. 
(h)(1) [authorizing the Department to adopt policies and enact regulations for the 
implementation of the DNA Act].)  And although he notes that a trial court might 
have to get involved if the Department denies a valid expungement request, he 
points to no case in which such a thing has occurred. 
Because defendant never sought expungement—and indeed, has never 
claimed to be entitled to seek expungement, since he was both charged with and 
ultimately convicted of a qualifying crime—we have no occasion here to resolve 
any questions that might arise about the implementation of the expungement 
provisions in other cases.  It suffices to note that many of defendant’s assertions 
about the operation of the expungement process are, at this point, necessarily 
speculative.  This court ordinarily does not issue constitutional rulings based on 
speculation, and we will not do so here.  (See, e.g., Cregler, supra, 56 Cal.2d at 
                                              
6  
California DOJ, Streamlined DNA Expungement Application Form, 
 [as of Apr. 2, 2018].  As the 
Attorney General notes, the Frequently Asked Questions page on the DOJ website 
indicates that the expedited expungement process is generally completed within 
two to four weeks.  (See  [as of 
Apr. 2, 2018].) 
29 
p. 313; Pacific Legal Foundation v. California Coastal Com. (1982) 33 Cal.3d 
158, 172.)7 
In short, although the DNA Act differs in some ways from the Maryland 
law at issue in King, none of those differences affects the Fourth Amendment 
analysis in the specific case before us.  King holds that a cheek swab is a 
reasonable booking procedure for individuals who are arrested for serious 
offenses, and defendant was asked to provide a cheek swab upon being booked 
after a valid arrest for a serious offense.  Defendant’s conviction for failing to 
submit a sample of his DNA therefore did not violate the Fourth Amendment to 
the federal Constitution. 
                                              
7  
As Justice Cuéllar notes in his dissent (post, pp. 29–30), after we granted 
review in this case, the Legislature enacted versions of Penal Code sections 298 
and 299 to become operative were this court to affirm the Court of Appeal’s 
decision below.  These include provisions for more automatic expungement and 
for delay in analyzing samples until probable cause for the arrest has been 
judicially determined.  (Stats. 2015, ch. 487, §§ 3, 5.)  
 
It goes without saying that our job is not to decide which version of the 
statute we prefer, but instead to determine whether the DNA Act, as enacted by 
California voters, is constitutional as applied to defendant in the case before us.  
The legislative amendments themselves make this clear.  The Legislature did not 
attempt to substitute these statutory provisions for those the voters approved; 
whether it could do so, consistent with its role under Proposition 69, is therefore a 
question not presented here.  (See Prop. 69, supra, § V, subd. (c) [amendments 
may be made only “to enhance the use of DNA identification evidence for the 
purpose of accurate and expeditious crime-solving and exonerating the 
innocent”].)  The Legislature instead enacted the provisions as a kind of fallback 
measure, providing that the amendments would come into force only if we affirm 
the lower court’s ruling as to the statutory sections’ unconstitutionality as applied 
in this case (presumably on a basis that would not equally undermine the validity 
of the Legislature’s conditional amendments).  We accordingly focus solely on the 
law as the voters enacted it, as applied to the facts of the case before us. 
30 
III. 
Defendant argues, and the Court of Appeal concluded on remand from 
King, that even if requiring him to furnish a DNA sample as part of the booking 
process did not violate the Fourth Amendment, it violated the parallel prohibition 
on unreasonable searches and seizures in article I, section 13 of the California 
Constitution. 
We evaluate the constitutionality of searches and seizures under our state 
Constitution by employing the same mode of analysis that the high court applied 
in King, supra, 569 U.S 435.  That is, we determine whether the intrusion on the 
defendant’s expectation of privacy is unreasonable by applying “a general 
balancing test ‘weighing the gravity of the governmental interest or public concern 
served and the degree to which the [challenged government conduct] advances 
that concern against the intrusiveness of the interference with individual liberty.’ ”  
(Hill v. National Collegiate Athletic Assn. (1994) 7 Cal.4th 1, 29–30, quoting 
Ingersoll v. Palmer, supra, 43 Cal.3d at p. 1338.)  Defendant does not argue 
otherwise.  He instead argues that we should reject King’s balancing of these 
interests as a matter of state constitutional law. 
In addressing defendant’s argument, we reaffirm several long-established 
principles.  First, the California Constitution is, and has always been, “a document 
of independent force” (American Academy of Pediatrics v. Lungren (1997) 16 
Cal.4th 307, 325) that sets forth rights that are in no way “dependent on those 
guaranteed by the United States Constitution” (Cal. Const., art. I, § 24).  “As an 
historical matter, article I and its Declaration of Rights was viewed as the only 
available protection for our citizens charged with crimes, because the federal 
Constitution and its Bill of Rights was initially deemed to apply only to the 
conduct of the federal government.”  (Raven v. Deukmejian (1990) 52 Cal.3d 336, 
352–353.)  While the setting changed following ratification of the Fourteenth 
31 
Amendment to the United States Constitution and the selective incorporation of 
the Bill of Rights, it remains a basic tenet of our system of federalism that “the 
nation as a whole is composed of distinct geographical and political entities bound 
together by a fundamental federal law but nonetheless independently responsible 
for safeguarding the rights of their citizens.”  (Brisendine, supra, 13 Cal.3d at 
p. 550.) 
Second, although decisions of the United States Supreme Court interpreting 
parallel federal text are not binding, we have said they are “entitled to respectful 
consideration.”  (People v. Teresinski (1982) 30 Cal.3d 822, 836 (Teresinski); cf., 
e.g., Gabrielli v. Knickerbocker (1938) 12 Cal.2d 85, 89 [“[C]ogent reasons must 
exist before a state court in construing a provision of the state Constitution will 
depart from the construction placed by the Supreme Court of the United States on 
a similar provision in the federal Constitution.”].)  This approach reflects the 
“respect due to the decision of that high tribunal, the fact that to it has been 
committed, by the consent of the states, the ultimate vindication of liberty and 
property against arbitrary and unconstitutional state legislation.”  (People v. Budd 
(1889) 117 N.Y. 1, 13, affd. Budd v. New York (1892) 143 U.S. 517, cited in 
Gabrielli, supra, 12 Cal.2d at p. 89.)  
We have had several occasions to address the application of these principles 
in the context of search and seizure law in particular.  Today, following a 1982 
state constitutional amendment passed by voter initiative, the United States 
Supreme Court’s interpretation of the Fourth Amendment is often not only 
persuasive, but controlling in criminal cases:  Under Proposition 8, the “Right to 
Truth-in-Evidence” (Cal. Const., art. I, § 28, subd. (f)(2)), added by voters in 
1982, the exclusionary rule does not apply to a search or seizure that violates 
article I, section 13, but does not violate the Fourth Amendment, and the fruits of 
such a search or seizure are admissible in a criminal trial.  This means that in 
32 
California criminal proceedings, issues related to the suppression of evidence 
seized by police are, in effect, governed by federal constitutional standards.  (E.g., 
People v. Lenart (2004) 32 Cal.4th 1107, 1118; see In re Lance W. (1985) 37 
Cal.3d 873, 891 [upholding Proposition 8].)  But when voters later enacted an 
initiative measure that would have eliminated this court’s ability to independently 
construe the California Constitution’s provisions granting certain rights to criminal 
defendants, including the right to be free of  unreasonable searches and seizures, 
we explained that such far-reaching change could be accomplished only by 
constitutional revision:  While our law has long reflected a “general principle or 
policy of deference to United States Supreme Court decisions,” the initiative 
measure could not “mandate the state courts’ blind obedience thereto, despite 
‘cogent reasons,’ ‘independent state interests,’ or ‘strong countervailing 
circumstances’ that might lead our courts to construe similar state constitutional 
language differently from the federal approach.”  (Raven v. Deukmejian, supra, 52 
Cal.3d at p. 353.)8 
Even before the passage of Proposition 8, this court ordinarily resolved 
questions about the legality of searches and seizures by construing the Fourth 
Amendment and article I, section 13 in tandem.  (E.g., People v. Triggs (1973) 8 
                                              
8  
Our colleagues in dissent would go further; they argue that we should take 
no special account of the federal high court’s interpretation of language common 
to the United States and California Constitutions.  (See dis. opn. of Liu, J., post, 
pp. 11–12; dis. opn. of Cuéllar, J., post, pp. 4–5.)  But as Raven v. Deukmejian 
made clear in rejecting an effort to eliminate our independent interpretive 
authority altogether, the approach we have described is neither a relic of a long-
distant past nor a recent innovation.  We will accordingly follow this court’s long-
standing policy and practice of giving meaningful and careful consideration to 
federal high court decisions construing parallel constitutional text, without in any 
way denying or denigrating our power and duty to depart from those decisions 
when sufficient reasons appear. 
33 
Cal.3d 884, 892, fn. 5 [“At least since the advent of Wolf v. Colorado (1949) 338 
U.S. 25, we have treated the law under article I, section 19 [now section 13], of 
our state Constitution as ‘substantively equivalent’ to the Supreme Court’s 
construction of the Fourth Amendment.”].)  On various occasions, however, this 
court has also decided questions pertaining to the legality of searches and seizures 
solely under article I, section 13, when the United States Supreme Court had not 
yet decided the parallel question under the Fourth Amendment.  (See, e.g., People 
v. Ruggles (1985) 39 Cal.3d at 1, 11 [“Rather than await more definitive guidance 
[from the United States Supreme Court], we turn to article I, section 13 of the 
California Constitution”]; People v. Cook (1985) 41 Cal.3d 373, 376, fn. 1 
[similar].)  And on some of those occasions, the high court later spoke to the 
question and reached a contrary conclusion under the Fourth Amendment.  We 
have then been confronted with the question whether to adhere to our own 
precedent construing article I, section 13, as a matter of stare decisis, or instead to 
abandon our precedent in favor of the high court’s decision.  (See Brisendine, 
supra, 13 Cal.3d at p. 552 [adhering to People v. Superior Court (Simon) (1972) 7 
Cal.3d 202, notwithstanding the United States Supreme Court’s later decision in 
United States v. Robinson, supra, 414 U.S. 218]; People v. Cook (1978) 22 Cal.3d 
67, 88 [adhering to the rule of Theodor v. Superior Court (1972) 8 Cal.3d 77, 
notwithstanding the United States Supreme Court’s later decision in Franks v. 
Delaware (1978) 438 U.S. 154].)   
Here, in contrast to many of our earlier cases, the United States Supreme 
Court has resolved the question before us under the Fourth Amendment.  The 
question is thus not whether we should abandon our own contrary precedent, and 
any reliance interests that may have grown up around it, but whether we should 
34 
reject the high court’s Fourth Amendment guidance.9  Confronted with a similar 
situation in Teresinski, in which this court’s Fourth Amendment ruling had been 
overturned by the United States Supreme Court in United States v. Crews (1980) 
445 U.S. 463, we declined an invitation to reach the same conclusion based on 
article I, section 13, finding “no reasons . . . to justify rejecting the teaching of the 
Supreme Court” on the issue presented.  (Teresinski, supra, 30 Cal.3d at p. 836.)  
The question is whether adequate reasons are present here to conclude, despite 
King, that California voters exceeded constitutional bounds in mandating the 
collection of DNA sample from an individual arrested and booked on probable 
cause to believe he had committed a serious offense. 
Defendant argues there are several such reasons.  To begin with, he argues 
that King should be rejected because its central premise is faulty.  King concluded 
that DNA collection from persons arrested for serious offenses serves a legitimate 
governmental interest in safely and accurately processing and identifying the 
persons they take into custody.  Defendant argues, however, that arrestee DNA 
information is not used to determine an arrestee’s identity, but “solely for 
investigation of possible other crimes.”  Echoing the dissenting opinion in King 
(supra, 569 U.S. at pp. 467–469 (dis. opn. of Scalia, J.)), defendant argues that 
                                              
9  
The dissenting opinions ask why “the order in which this court decides an 
issue vis-à-vis the high court” should be of any significance.  (Dis. opn. of Cuéllar, 
J., post, at p. 8; see also dis. opn. of Liu, J., post, at p. 12.)  In reviewing this 
court’s past practice, our answer is straightforward:  in instances where this court 
had previously decided an issue, that decision carried the persuasive force of stare 
decisis we always accord our own precedents, which had then to be balanced 
against the persuasive force of the contrary United States Supreme Court decision.  
In instances where we had not previously decided an issue, no similar 
counterbalance existed.  
35 
gathering DNA information for this purpose is unreasonable in the absence of a 
warrant or individualized suspicion. 
In evaluating defendant’s argument, we do not write on a blank slate.  As 
noted, in Robinson, supra, 47 Cal.4th 1104, this court upheld against a Fourth 
Amendment challenge the practice of mandatory collection of DNA samples from 
convicted felons.  This court so held precisely because of the capacity of DNA 
sampling to provide accurate and reliable identification of criminal offenders.  
This court recognized that DNA samples, like fingerprints, may also be used to 
establish a suspect’s involvement in crimes.  (Id. at pp. 1120–1121.)  Indeed, the 
DNA sample taken from the defendant in Robinson was used for that purpose, and 
led to his prosecution for an unrelated crime.  But this court concluded that the 
search was reasonable because DNA testing is, like fingerprinting, a means of 
identification, and “individuals in lawful custody cannot claim privacy in their 
identification.”  (Id. at p. 1121.)   
Robinson, like King, recognized that suspects can change their names, 
assume a false identity using forged documents, change their hair color, have 
tattoos removed, have plastic surgery, and change their eye color with contact 
lenses.  But it is impossible to alter a DNA profile.  Thus, as Robinson explained, 
“ ‘for purposes of identifying “a particular person” as the defendant, a DNA 
profile is arguably the most discrete, exclusive means of personal identification 
possible.’ ”  (Robinson, supra, 47 Cal.4th at p. 1134, quoting State v. Dabney 
(Wis. 2003) 663 N.W.2d 366, 372.)  “ ‘ “A genetic code describes a person with 
far greater precision than a physical description or a name.” ’ ”  (Ibid.)  For that 
reason, this court upheld an arrest warrant describing the arrestee by only his DNA 
profile.  (Robinson, at p. 1137.)   
California law, like federal law, has also recognized that identification of 
arrestees is not an end in itself; rather, the primary purpose of identification is to 
36 
facilitate the gathering of information about the arrestee contained in police 
records, which in turn informs decisions about how to proceed with the arrestee.  
(Loder v. Municipal Court, supra, 17 Cal.3d at pp. 866–867 [upholding limited 
retention and use of arrest records, including fingerprints and other identifying 
information].)  Our law is thus consistent with the high court’s observation that 
“[t]he task of identification necessarily entails searching public and police records 
based on the identifying information provided by the arrestee to see what is 
already known about him.”  (King, supra, 569 U.S. at p. 451.)  “In this respect the 
use of DNA for identification is no different than matching an arrestee’s face to a 
wanted poster of a previously unidentified suspect; or matching tattoos to known 
gang symbols to reveal a criminal affiliation; or matching the arrestee’s 
fingerprints to those recovered from a crime scene. . . .  [DNA testing] uses a 
different form of identification than a name or fingerprint, but its function is the 
same.”  (Ibid.) 
As counsel confirmed at oral argument, defendant does not dispute that it is 
reasonable for officers to check an arrestee’s fingerprints against “electronic 
databases of known criminals and unsolved crimes.”  (King, supra, 569 U.S. at 
p. 451.)  This, he says, is because fingerprints are capable of serving a “genuine” 
identification purpose, while a DNA profile is not.  To be sure, a DNA profile is 
not, at least under present technological conditions, generated immediately or 
nearly immediately, in the manner of fingerprints.  But as the high court noted in 
King, the immediate availability of fingerprints for identification purposes is also a 
relatively recent development; before the FBI introduced its electronic fingerprint 
database in 1999, processing fingerprint submissions often took “ ‘weeks or 
months.’ ”  (Id. at p. 459.)  Such delays have not been thought to undermine the 
basic identification purposes of the information.  (See, e.g., United States v. Kelly 
(2d Cir. 1932) 55 F.2d 67, 69, 70 [“Finger printing seems to be no more than an 
37 
extension of methods of identification long used in dealing with persons under 
arrest for real or supposed violations . . . .”  “It can really be objected to only 
because it may furnish strong evidence of a man’s guilt.”].)  
As the high court explained in King, “[t]he question of how long it takes to 
process identifying information obtained from a valid search goes only to the 
efficacy of the search for its purpose of prompt identification, not the 
constitutionality of the search.”  (King, supra, 569 U.S. at p. 459.)  Even if a DNA 
profile is not generated until weeks or months after the initial booking, the 
information it yields about the arrestee and his criminal history can still have an 
“important bearing” on the processing of the arrestee—whether, for example, to 
revisit an initial determination to release the arrestee or to impose new release 
conditions.  (Id. at p. 460.)  Information obtained after initial booking may also 
influence the jailer’s decision about where to house the arrestee. 
To the extent defendant means to argue that fingerprinting simply makes 
DNA identification superfluous, we have no adequate basis for concluding that is 
so.  Fingerprinting and DNA identification are not simply substitutes for one 
another.  (Robinson, supra, 47 Cal.4th at p. 1134.)  Fingerprinting alone would not 
have revealed, for example, that there was an outstanding warrant for the 
defendant’s arrest in Robinson.  And as the court in King noted, “[i]n considering 
laws to require collecting DNA from arrestees, government agencies around the 
Nation found evidence of numerous cases in which felony arrestees would have 
been identified as violent through DNA identification matching them to previous 
crimes but who later committed additional crimes because such identification was 
not used to detain them.”  (King, supra, 569 U.S. at p. 454.)  
Defendant also argues that we should reject King as a matter of state 
constitutional law because King “ignored the highly sensitive nature of the genetic 
data contained in the collected DNA,” and “did not address what federal circuit 
38 
courts have recognized as the more significant privacy implications posed by the 
state’s subsequent analysis and retention of the sensitive information contained in 
DNA.”  The criticism is misplaced.  Contrary to defendant’s characterization, the 
court in King recognized that the privacy interests at stake extended beyond the 
“minimally invasive” physical collection of the DNA sample by buccal swab.  
(King, supra, 569 U.S. at p. 460.)  As noted above, the court acknowledged 
concerns about the genetic information contained in the collected DNA and its 
subsequent analysis.  It explained that CODIS testing is designed to reveal nothing 
more about the arrestee than his or her identity, and that state law forbade the use 
of DNA information for nonidentification purposes.  (Id. at pp. 464–465.)  But the 
court acknowledged that if scientific advances or other developments mean that 
CODIS testing will now lead to discovery of personal medical information, a new 
Fourth Amendment analysis will be required.  (Ibid.) 
We, too, are mindful of the heightened privacy interests in the sensitive 
information that can be extracted from a person’s DNA.  These interests implicate 
not only article I, section 13, but the privacy rights enjoyed by all Californians 
under the explicit protection of article I, section 1 of the California Constitution.  
(See, e.g., Lewis v. Superior Court (2017) 3 Cal.5th 561, 569.)  But our cases have 
also recognized that safeguards against the wrongful use or disclosure of sensitive 
information may minimize the privacy intrusion when the government accesses 
personal information, including sensitive medical information.  (E.g., id. at 
pp. 576–577 [upholding the constitutionality of government access to prescription 
drug record database under article I, section 1 of the California Constitution].)  
Here, the DNA Act makes the misuse of a DNA sample a felony, punishable by 
years of imprisonment and criminal fines.  (Pen. Code, § 299.5.)  These strong 
sanctions substantially reduce the likelihood of an unjustified intrusion on the 
suspect’s privacy.  Like the King court, we acknowledge the possibility that 
39 
technological change might alter the privacy interests at stake, requiring a new 
constitutional analysis.  But we are no more inclined than that court to decide 
cases on the basis of speculation about future developments that may not come to 
pass. 
Defendant next argues that this court should reject King because article I, 
section 13, gives arrested suspects greater privacy rights than they possess under 
the Fourth Amendment.  Defendant points to decisions of this court holding that 
article I, section 13 forbids officers from conducting so-called “ ‘accelerated 
booking search[es]’ ” in the field at the time of arrest (People v. Laiwa (1983) 34 
Cal.3d 711, 726–728); from conducting full body searches of arrested suspects 
before determining whether they will be cited and released without being booked 
(People v. Longwill (1975) 14 Cal.3d 943, 951–952 (Longwill)); and from 
conducting searches of personal effects incident to a citation or arrest for a traffic 
violation, absent reason to believe the effects contain weapons or contraband 
(Brisendine, supra, 13 Cal.3d at pp. 548–552; People v. Norman (1975) 14 Cal.3d 
929, 938).  In the latter cases, we rejected the rule of United States v. Robinson, 
supra, 414 U.S. 218, which, as we described it in Longwill, permits “full body 
searches of all individuals subjected to custodial arrest,” as well as their effects, 
“regardless of the offense, and regardless of whether the individual is ultimately to 
be incarcerated.”  (Longwill, supra, 14 Cal.3d at p. 951.) 
But what motivated these decisions was not principally a difference in 
opinion with the federal courts about the scope of legitimate privacy rights of 
persons subject to custodial arrest.  California law and federal law alike recognize 
that an arrestee has reduced privacy interests upon being taken into police custody, 
but that reduced privacy interests do not mean zero privacy interests—which is to 
say, “[n]ot every search ‘is acceptable solely because a person is in custody.’ ”  
(Riley v. California, supra, 134 S.Ct. at p. 2488, quoting King, supra, 569 U.S. at 
40 
p. 463.)  Rather, the cases on which defendant relies all turn on a different 
evaluation of legitimate law enforcement needs when arresting suspects in the 
field.  As relevant here, this court concluded that the rationales for conducting full 
booking searches before a defendant enters custody do not apply to all persons 
cited or arrested in the field, since “it is factually demonstrable that a substantial 
number of the arrestees will never see the inside of a jail cell.”  (Longwill, supra, 
14 Cal.3d at p. 951.)  In each case, we explained, “the same factors are operative:  
the potential harm to the officer if the arrestee is armed justifies a limited weapons 
search, but a full booking search is ‘inappropriate in the context of an arrestee who 
will never be subjected to that process.’ ”  (Id. at p. 950, quoting Brisendine, 
supra, 13 Cal.3d at p. 547.) 
The question before us, by contrast, does not concern the constitutionality 
of a booking search conducted immediately upon arrest, but a booking search 
conducted at the time of booking, and justified by an interest in accurate 
identification that applies to all persons who are taken into police custody 
following a valid arrest for a serious offense.  Cases concluding that full booking 
searches are inappropriate for arrestees who will never be booked into jail are thus 
of limited relevance here.   
Finally, defendant argues that even if the differences between the DNA Act 
and the law at issue in King do not alter the Fourth Amendment analysis, they 
should alter the state constitutional analysis.  For reasons already given, these 
differences do not change our assessment of the constitutionality of the DNA Act 
as applied in defendant’s case.  Officials asked defendant for a DNA sample upon 
booking, after he was arrested on probable cause for a serious offense, and as he 
was entering pretrial detention.  Under the circumstances before us, the 
requirement was not unreasonable. 
 
 
41 
IV. 
Our holding today is limited.  The sole question before us is whether it was 
reasonable, under either the Fourth Amendment or article I, section 13 of the 
California Constitution, to require the defendant in this case to swab his cheek as 
part of a routine jail booking procedure following a valid arrest for felony arson.  
Because we conclude the requirement was reasonable as applied to defendant, we 
hold he is subject to the statutory penalties prescribed in Penal Code section 298.1.   
Although defendant was arrested on probable cause for felony arson and 
was ultimately convicted of that offense, our dissenting colleagues argue that we 
should reach beyond the facts of the case before us to strike down some or all of 
the DNA Act’s provisions as they apply to other categories of arrestees.  They 
argue that we should consider defendant’s reasonable expectations about the use 
and retention of his DNA sample at the time of booking, and we should do so from 
behind a “veil of ignorance,” treating defendant as though his circumstances were 
“indistinguishable” from a suspect who is wrongly or pretextually arrested, or 
against whom charges are never brought, or who is ultimately acquitted of any 
charged offenses.  (Dis. opn. of Cuéllar, J., post, at p. 28; see also dis. opn. of Liu, 
J., post, at pp. 1–2.)   
In assessing whether the demand for a sample of an arrestee’s DNA was 
reasonable under article I, section 13, we agree that it may be appropriate to 
consider not only the minimal nature of the physical intrusion associated with a 
buccal swab, but the arrestee’s reasonable expectations about what would happen 
to the sample after collection.  But in so analyzing the arrestee’s choice, we cannot 
ignore the safeguards built into the DNA Act:  the limited nature of the 
information stored in databases on an arrestee (specifically, a numerical profile 
describing noncoding parts of the arrestee’s DNA); the legal protections against 
possible misuse of the profile or the sample (including felony sanctions for 
42 
knowing improper use or dissemination); and the availability of procedures for 
removing the profile from the database and destroying the sample should the basis 
for the arrestee’s inclusion dissipate.  We have no record before us to show that 
these legal protections would have been violated or proved unworkable had 
defendant chosen to comply with the requirement to provide a DNA sample on 
booking.  And we note, as a purely practical matter, whatever apprehension 
defendant might have had about the adequacy of the Act’s protections for 
individuals who are found to have been wrongly arrested, for example, would 
certainly have been mitigated by his own knowledge of the circumstances of his 
arrest.  (Here, the record shows that defendant knew from the outset that he had 
been apprehended in the act of setting fire to the tires of a police car and 
anticipated that he would be prosecuted for his acts, to which he would later 
confess at trial.  (See fn. 4, ante.))  To be sure, as explained above, defendant was 
entitled to the full scope of constitutional protection against unreasonable 
searches, despite his arrest on evident probable cause.  And had he later found 
himself in a position to seek expungement of his sample and profile and found the 
statutory procedures inadequate, he would have been entitled to challenge the 
retention of his information on that basis. 
Not all arrestees will be comparably situated to the defendant in this case.  
An individual who, unlike defendant, is arrested in the absence of probable cause 
might reasonably anticipate that charges will never be brought and any attempted 
prosecution will inevitably fail.10  And such an arrestee may, at least in some 
                                              
10  
Justice Liu (dis. opn., post, at p. 9) invokes language from Florida v. 
Bostick (1991) 501 U.S. 429, 437–438, which decided a question of detention in 
the context of random police requests to search bus passengers’ luggage.  The 
point of the cited passage of Bostick is that a person’s knowledge he or she has 
something to hide does not convert a consensual encounter into a detention.  The 
 
(footnote continued on next page) 
43 
circumstances, have a valid as-applied challenge to the adequacy of the DNA 
Act’s expungement procedures or to application of the Act’s other operative 
provisions, in addition to the other remedies available for unlawful arrest.  (Cf. 
People v. McInnis, supra, 6 Cal.3d at p. 826 [photograph taken pursuant to an 
illegal arrest could be shown to a witness asked to identify the perpetrator of a 
subsequent crime where there was no evidence the police had “ ‘exploited’ ” the 
earlier illegal arrest].)  We note that a group of plaintiffs in federal court have 
already challenged the law’s application to those who are never charged with any 
crime.  (See Haskell v. Harris (filed July 18, 2014, N.D.Cal. Civ. Case No. C 09-
04779 CRB, docket #146), Motion to Create Subclasses, p. 1 [seeking certification 
of subclass consisting of arrestees compelled to submit samples under DNA Act 
“unless they are actually charged with a felony offense”].)  We of course take no 
view on the merits of any such challenges.  We only note them for purposes of 
contrast with this case, in which defendant bases his challenge to his misdemeanor 
refusal conviction on the potential for constitutional deprivation under 
circumstances that are not, in fact, present here. 
To entertain defendant’s arguments here would convert our decision in this 
case, which concerns only the validity of defendant’s conviction for violation of 
Penal Code section 298.1, into the equivalent of facial constitutional review of the 
DNA Act as it might be applied to other arrestees.  But the DNA Act itself 
instructs that the validity of the Act as applied to defendant does not depend on its 
                                                                                                                                                              
 
(footnote continued from previous page) 
 
passage tells us nothing about how to judge the depth of privacy intrusion 
involved in a postarrest demand for a DNA sample based not on the collection of 
the sample itself, but based on the likelihood of future use or retention of the 
sample under various conditions that did not, in fact, obtain in this case.  
44 
validity as it might apply to others.  (Prop. 69, supra, § V, subd. (b); see p. 6, 
ante.)  And our jurisprudence likewise counsels us to follow a narrower course.  
While “passing on the validity of a law wholesale may be efficient in the abstract,” 
the law teaches that we should ordinarily focus on the circumstances before us in 
determining whether the work of a coequal branch of government may stand or 
must fall.  (Sabri, supra, 541 U.S. at p. 609.)  We accordingly abide by what has 
been called a “ ‘cardinal principle of judicial restraint—if it is not necessary to 
decide more, it is necessary not to decide more.’ ”  (People v. Contreras (2018) 4 
Cal.5th 349, 381.)  
In sum:  Defendant raises a number of concerns about the potential 
application of the DNA Act in other cases involving other, differently situated 
arrestees.  He also raises concerns that changes in technology might open up new 
prospects for using his DNA samples and profiles in ways that are uniquely 
invasive of personal privacy.  We are mindful of these concerns, and we recognize 
that the DNA Act may raise additional constitutional questions that will require 
resolution in other cases. 
In addressing the concerns defendant has raised here, however, we are also 
mindful of our role in reviewing a law duly enacted by California voters in the 
exercise of their initiative power.  We have often said that “it is our solemn duty to 
jealously guard” the initiative power secured by the California Constitution, and 
that we accordingly may not strike down voter measures “unless their  
unconstitutionality clearly, positively, and unmistakably appears.”  (Legislature v. 
Eu (1991) 54 Cal.3d 492, 501.)  Whatever else this duty might entail, it surely 
entails an obligation to avoid invalidating the work of the California electorate on 
the ground that “the law would be unconstitutionally applied to different parties 
and different circumstances from those at hand.”  (Sabri, supra, 541 U.S. at 
p. 609; see Cregler, supra, 56 Cal.2d at p. 313.) 
45 
The judgment of the Court of Appeal is reversed. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
KRUGER, J. 
 
WE CONCUR: 
 
CANTIL-SAKAUYE, C. J. 
CHIN, J. 
CORRIGAN, J.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
DISSENTING OPINION BY LIU, J.  
 
According to today’s opinion, “[t]he sole question before us is whether it was 
reasonable, under either the Fourth Amendment or article I, section 13 of the California 
Constitution, to require the defendant in this case to swab his cheek as part of a routine 
jail booking procedure following a valid arrest for felony arson.”  (Maj. opn., ante, at 
p. 41, italics added.)  This statement of the issue is misleading. 
The DNA Fingerprint, Unsolved Crime and Innocence Protection Act (DNA Act) 
requires collection of DNA from all adult felony arrestees “immediately following arrest” 
and requires samples to be “forwarded immediately” to the laboratory for analysis.  (Pen. 
Code, § 295(i)(1)(A), (C).)  Buza was arrested on January 21, 2009.  At booking a few 
hours later, a police officer requested a cheek swab from Buza under penalty of law.  
Buza refused.  It was not until the next day, January 22, 2009, that a judge found 
probable cause to believe Buza committed arson.  On January 23, 2009, the district 
attorney filed a complaint charging Buza with arson and related offenses as well as 
unlawful refusal to provide a DNA specimen on January 21, 2009 (id., § 298.1, 
subd. (a)).  The question is whether Buza can be convicted of refusing to provide his 
DNA at booking prior to any judicial determination of whether he was validly arrested.  
Today’s opinion does not explain why the fact that Buza was found “validly arrested on 
probable cause to believe he had committed felony arson, and . . . was promptly charged 
with (and ultimately convicted of) that offense” (maj. opn., ante, at p. 15) has any bearing 
on whether it was lawful to require him to provide his DNA before any of those 
determinations were made. 
2 
The court says that a “valid arrest” in this context does not require “a judicial 
determination of its validity.”  (Maj. opn., ante, at p. 23.)  But this assertion, even if true, 
does not disturb the main premise of the question presented:  For purposes of 
constitutional analysis, Buza is no different than any felony arrestee who has not been 
charged, convicted, or found by a neutral magistrate to be lawfully detained.  This point 
is critical because it brings into focus the startling breadth of DNA collection and 
retention authorized by the statute.  This is not a scheme carefully calibrated to identify 
felony offenders.  Instead, it can be fairly described as a biological dragnet.  As explained 
below, and for the reasons stated in Justice Cuéllar’s dissent, the DNA Act violates the 
prohibition on unreasonable searches and seizures in the California Constitution.   
According to the Office of the Attorney General, there are 200,000 to 300,000 
felony arrests in California every year.  (Cal. Dept. of Justice, Crime in California 2016 
(Aug. 17, 2017) p. 49.)  But not all arrests end in convictions; far from it.  Here are the 
Attorney General’s data on dispositions of adult felony arrests for each year since 2009, 
when the DNA Act started requiring all such arrestees to provide DNA samples 
immediately upon arrest: 
 
 
Total 
Law 
enforcement 
releases 
Complaints 
denied 
Dismissed, 
acquitted 
Convicted 
# 
# 
% 
# 
% 
# 
% 
# 
% 
2016 
207,022 
7,058 
3.4 
36,588 
17.7 
25,961 
12.5 
137,415 
66.4 
2015 
242,460 
7,537 
3.1 
38,733 
16.0 
33,908 
14.0 
162,282 
66.9 
2014 
315,782 
10,227 
3.2 
48,235 
15.3 
39,632 
12.6 
217,688 
68.9 
2013 
305,503 
10,525 
3.4 
45,273 
14.8 
36,315 
11.9 
213,390 
69.8 
2012 
295,465 
9,572 
3.2 
48,029 
16.3 
35,451 
12.0 
202,413 
68.5 
2011 
292,231 
9,780 
3.3 
45,988 
15.7 
40,642 
13.9 
195,821 
67.0 
2010 
298,647 
9,980 
3.3 
46,054 
15.4 
40,793 
13.7 
201,820 
67.6 
2009 
306,170 
9,894 
3.2 
43,317 
14.1 
45,000 
14.7 
207,959 
67.9 
Total 
2,263,280 
74,573 
3.3 
352,217 
15.6 
297,702 
13.2 
1,538,788 
68.0 
3 
 
(Id. at table 37, p. 49.)  These data show that from 2009 to 2016, nearly one in five felony 
arrests did not result in prosecution, and almost one in three — a total of 724,492 arrests 
— did not result in a conviction. 
Each of those arrests triggered the requirement to provide a DNA sample.  Yet the 
state has no legal basis for retaining the DNA sample or profile if no charges are filed, if 
the charges are dismissed, if the person is acquitted or found not guilty or factually 
innocent, or if the conviction is reversed and the case is dismissed, unless there is some 
other basis such as a prior offense that qualifies the person for inclusion in the state DNA 
database.  (Pen. Code, § 299, subds. (a), (b).)  The Judicial Council of California, 
pursuant to its reporting obligations under Penal Code section 1170.45, has reported that 
from 2009 to 2016, between 15 and 20 percent of felony arrestees had no criminal record, 
between 14 and 19 percent had one or more prior prison commitments, and around 66 
percent had a criminal record with no prior prison commitment (so-called 
“ ‘miscellaneous’ ” records), a category that presumably includes arrestees with only 
misdemeanor convictions for which DNA collection is not authorized.  (See, e.g., Jud. 
Council of Cal., Disposition of Criminal Cases According to the Race and Ethnicity of 
the Defendant (Sept. 20, 2017) p. 15 (Disposition of Criminal Cases) [15 percent of 
felony arrestees in 2016 had no criminal record, 19 percent had one or more prior prison 
commitments, 66 percent had miscellaneous records]; Jud. Council of Cal., Disposition 
of Criminal Cases According to the Race and Ethnicity of the Defendant (2011) [20 
percent of felony arrestees in 2009 had no criminal record, 14 percent had one or more 
prior prison commitments, 66 percent had miscellaneous records].)  The percentage of 
felony arrestees with no prior convictions or only misdemeanor convictions is likely 
higher among those who are not charged or not convicted than among felony arrestees 
overall.  Thus, even assuming that a substantial portion of the 724,492 arrests from 2009 
to 2016 that resulted in no conviction involved persons with a prior (or subsequent) 
4 
qualifying offense, there are tens if not hundreds of thousands of individuals who have 
been required to provide DNA samples that the state has no legal basis for retaining. 
The statute sets forth a process for expungement, but this process is not adequate 
to allay constitutional concerns.  In contrast to the automatic expungement provisions of 
the state law at issue in Maryland v. King (2013) 569 U.S. 435, 443–444 (King), 
California’s DNA Act provides that a person seeking expungement “must send a copy of 
his or her request to the trial court of the county where the arrest occurred, or that entered 
the conviction or rendered disposition in the case, to the DNA Laboratory of the 
Department of Justice, and to the prosecuting attorney of the county in which he or she 
was arrested or[] convicted[] or adjudicated, with proof of service on all parties.”  (Pen. 
Code, § 299, subd. (c)(1).)  The Department of Justice “shall destroy” the DNA 
specimen, sample, and searchable profile “upon receipt of a court order that verifies the 
applicant has made the necessary showing at a noticed hearing, and that includes all of 
the following:  [¶] (A) The written request for expungement pursuant to this section.  [¶] 
(B) A certified copy of the court order reversing and dismissing the conviction or case, or 
a letter from the district attorney certifying that no accusatory pleading has been filed or 
the charges which served as the basis for collecting a DNA specimen and sample have 
been dismissed prior to adjudication by a trier of fact, the defendant has been found 
factually innocent, the defendant has been found not guilty, the defendant has been 
acquitted of the underlying offense, or the underlying conviction has been reversed and 
the case dismissed.  [¶] (C) Proof of written notice to the prosecuting attorney and the 
Department of Justice that expungement has been requested.  [¶] (D) A court order 
verifying that no retrial or appeal of the case is pending, that it has been at least 180 days 
since the defendant or minor has notified the prosecuting attorney and the Department of 
Justice of the expungement request, and that the court has not received an objection from 
the Department of Justice or the prosecuting attorney.”  (Id., subd. (c)(2).) 
5 
The extensive documentation, notice to multiple parties, judicial hearing, and 
additional steps required for expungement place a significant burden on eligible persons, 
assuming they are even aware of the process.  In addition, although the statute says a 
person whose arrest resulted in no charge or conviction “shall have his or her DNA 
specimen and sample destroyed and searchable database profile expunged” if the state 
has “no legal basis for retaining” them (Pen. Code, § 299, subd. (a)), the statute also says:  
“The court has the discretion to grant or deny the request for expungement.  The denial of 
a request for expungement is a nonappealable order and shall not be reviewed by petition 
for writ.”  (Id., § 299, subd. (c)(1).)  It is not clear what “discretion” the court may 
exercise in deciding whether to grant or deny a request, or what remedy is available if the 
court denies a valid request.  Further, it is not clear what consequence ensues if the state 
does not comply with a court order granting a request for expungement.  (Id., § 299, 
subd. (d) [“Any identification, warrant, probable cause to arrest, or arrest based upon a 
databank or database match is not invalidated due to a failure to expunge or a delay in 
expunging records.”].) 
The Department of Justice has sought to expedite the process by creating a 
“Streamlined DNA Expungement Application Form.”  (Cal. Dept. of Justice, Proposition 
69 (DNA)  [as of Apr. 2, 2018] [“Remove Your DNA 
Sample from the DNA Database”]; cf. 34 U.S.C. § 12592(d)(2) [requiring states to 
“promptly expunge” the DNA analysis of qualified persons as a condition of state access 
to the DNA index maintained by the FBI].)  But the reality is that few DNA samples, 
once collected, are ever removed. 
The Department of Justice DNA Laboratory publishes monthly reports on the 
number of samples added or removed from its inventory as well as historical totals since 
the DNA collection program began in 2004.  As of February 2018, the DNA Laboratory 
had received 2,792,083 DNA samples and had removed 44,314 samples, or 1.6 percent, 
since the program began.  (Cal. Dept. of Justice, Proposition 69 (DNA) 
6 
 [February statistics as of Mar. 28, 2018] [“DNA 
Laboratory Monthly Statistics, pdf”].)  As of December 2008, the DNA Laboratory had 
removed 22,269 DNA samples from its inventory since the program began; these 
removals include “Expunged, Removed or Failed Samples, or where a New Sample was 
Requested.”  (Appellees’ Response to Appellants’ Request for Judicial Notice; 
Supplemental Request for Judicial Notice and Supporting Declaration of Daniel J. 
Powell, Haskell v. Harris (filed Sept. 20, 2012, 9th Cir. case No. 10-15152) docket #103, 
Ex. A, p. 24; see Haskell v. Harris (9th Cir. 2014) 745 F.3d 1269 (en banc).)  Even if we 
assume that all reported removals are expungements, the total number of expungements 
from January 2009, when the current DNA law went into effect, until February 2018 
would be only 22,045 — i.e., the difference between 44,314 (the total number of 
removals through February 2018) and 22,269 (the total number of removals through 
December 2008).  This is a small fraction of the large population of individuals since 
2009 whose felony arrests have resulted in no charge or conviction, and who have no 
other basis for inclusion in the state DNA database.  It is questionable whether the vast 
majority of people entitled to expungement even know about the process much less know 
how to navigate it.  Indeed, we have no indication that any responsible official is ever 
required to inform an arrestee about the expungement process. 
The state’s retention of DNA is troubling not only because of its sheer magnitude 
but also because it predictably burdens certain groups.  African Americans, who are 6.5 
percent of California’s population, made up 20.3 percent of adult felony arrestees in 
2016.  (U.S. Census Bureau, QuickFacts: California (July 1, 2016) 
 [as of Apr. 2, 2018]; Crime in California 2016, 
supra, at p. 36.)  Yet they comprised 24.3 percent of felony arrestees who were released 
by law enforcement or the prosecuting attorney in 2016 before any court disposition.  
(Disposition of Criminal Cases, supra, at p. 10.)  Non-Hispanic whites, by contrast, 
comprised 31.2 percent of felony arrestees but only 27.0 percent of felony arrestees 
7 
released by law enforcement or the prosecuting attorney.  (Crime in California 2016, 
supra, at p. 36; Disposition of Criminal Cases, supra, at p. 10.)  The fact that felony 
arrests of African Americans disproportionately result in no charges or dropped charges 
means that African Americans are disproportionately represented among the thousands of 
DNA profiles that the state has no legal basis for retaining. 
Penal Code section 297, subdivision (c)(2) provides an alternative route for 
expungement:  “The law enforcement investigating agency submitting a specimen, 
sample, or print impression to the DNA Laboratory of the Department of Justice or law 
enforcement crime laboratory pursuant to this section shall inform the Department of 
Justice DNA Laboratory within two years whether the person remains a suspect in a 
criminal investigation.  Upon written notification from a law enforcement agency that a 
person is no longer a suspect in a criminal investigation, the Department of Justice DNA 
Laboratory shall remove the suspect sample from its databank files and databases.  
However, any identification, warrant, arrest, or prosecution based upon a databank or 
database match shall not be invalidated or dismissed due to a failure to purge or delay in 
purging records.”  But it is not clear how this process, which relies on the initiative of law 
enforcement, is monitored or enforced; the language of the statute, like Penal Code 
section 299, expressly contemplates “failure” or “delay” by responsible officials.  In any 
event, this expungement process may take up to two years after a person’s DNA is sent to 
the laboratory, during which time the sample remains available to law enforcement even 
if the person was never charged or convicted of a crime. 
The court says it need not consider the adequacy of the expungement process 
because Buza was “charged with and ultimately convicted of a qualifying crime.”  (Maj. 
opn., ante, at p. 28.)  But the question is whether it was constitutional to require Buza to 
provide his DNA after his arrest on January 21, 2009 — before he was charged or 
convicted.  In answering this question, it certainly matters how his DNA would be 
analyzed, used, and retained, and we must address these considerations from the vantage 
8 
point that existed at the time Buza was required to provide his DNA.  (See People v. Gale 
(1973) 9 Cal.3d 788, 795 [“ ‘The question of the reasonableness of the officers’ conduct 
is determined on the basis of the information possessed by the officer at the time a 
decision to act is made.’ ”].)  We cannot ignore the (in)adequacy of expungement — the 
statute’s only safeguard against overbroad retention — based on the fortuity that Buza 
turned out to be guilty.  (See McDonald v. United States (1948) 335 U.S. 451, 453 [the 
“guarantee of protection against unreasonable searches and seizures extends to the 
innocent and guilty alike”].) 
In addition, the court says collecting DNA from an arrestee before a judge has 
determined the validity of the arrest is analogous to a search incident to arrest, “where a 
valid arrest is also essential [and] there is no such preapproval requirement.”  (Maj. opn., 
ante, at p. 23.)  But a search incident to arrest is justified and limited by the immediate 
need to “protect[] arresting officers and safeguard[] any evidence of the offense of arrest 
that an arrestee might conceal or destroy.”  (Arizona v. Gant (2009) 556 U.S. 332, 339.)  
DNA collection upon arrest does not serve any similarly pressing purpose.  (Dis. opn. of 
Cuéllar, J., post, at pp. 13–14 [it takes around 30 days to generate an identification profile 
from an arrestee’s DNA sample].)  Moreover, when an arrest is later found invalid by a 
neutral magistrate, a search incident to the arrest is deemed unlawful, and the evidence 
obtained is subject to suppression.  (See People v. Macabeo (2016) 1 Cal.5th 1206, 
1219.)  The DNA Act does not deem unlawful the collection of DNA pursuant to an 
arrest that is later found invalid; such DNA may be retained and used by law enforcement 
so long as there is no request for expungement. 
The court further contends that “whatever apprehension defendant might have had 
about the adequacy of the Act’s protections for individuals who are found to have been 
wrongly arrested, for example, would certainly have been mitigated by his own 
knowledge of the circumstances of his arrest.  (Here, the record shows that defendant 
knew from the outset that he had been apprehended in the act of setting fire to the tires of 
9 
a police car and anticipated that he would be prosecuted for his acts, to which he would 
later confess at trial.  (See fn. 4, ante.)) . . . .  [¶] Not all arrestees will be comparably 
situated to the defendant in this case.  An individual who, unlike defendant, is arrested in 
the absence of probable cause might reasonably anticipate that charges will never be 
brought and any attempted prosecution will inevitably fail.”  (Maj. opn., ante, at p. 42, 
fn. omitted.)  This seems to suggest that arrestees who know they are guilty are entitled to 
lesser constitutional protection than arrestees who believe they are innocent.  Such 
reasoning contravenes the fundamental principle that “the ‘reasonable person’ test [in 
search and seizure analysis] presupposes an innocent person.  See [Florida v. Royer 
(1983) 460 U.S. 491, 519, fn. 4] (Blackmun, J., dissenting) (‘The fact that [respondent] 
knew the search was likely to turn up contraband is of course irrelevant; the potential 
intrusiveness of the officers’ conduct must be judged from the viewpoint of an innocent 
person in [his] position’).  Accord, [Michigan v. Chesternut (1988) 486 U.S. 567, 574] 
(‘This “reasonable person” standard . . . ensures that the scope of Fourth Amendment 
protection does not vary with the state of mind of the particular individual being 
approached’).”  (Florida v. Bostick (1991) 501 U.S. 429, 438.)  If we are going to make 
the constitutional analysis turn on whether the defendant “knew from the outset” that he 
was guilty, then we might as well dispense with much of seizure and seizure law.  (See 
People v. Schmitz (2012) 55 Cal.4th 909, 947 (conc. & dis. opn. of Liu, J.) [search and 
seizure doctrine “is built on cases involving guilty people”].) 
I have no doubt that law enforcement is aided by the collection and retention of 
massive numbers of DNA profiles, whether those profiles are used to confirm a person’s 
identity, to facilitate access to criminal history or other information about a person, or to 
help solve unsolved crimes.  But if those interests are enough to justify the collection and 
retention of DNA from persons who are arrested but not convicted, not charged, or not 
even found to be lawfully detained so long as they do not seek expungement, then it is 
not that far a step for the state to collect and retain DNA from law-abiding people in 
10 
general, including anyone who “applies for a driver’s license” or “attends a public 
school.”  (King, supra, 569 U.S. at p. 482 (dis. opn. of Scalia, J.).)  Such broad-based 
policies would similarly aid law enforcement while having the virtue of being less 
discriminatory in their effects. 
Indeed, the court’s analogy to fingerprinting, a less invasive and less powerful 
technology, should give us pause.  (Maj. opn., ante, at pp. 35–37; see dis. opn. of Cuéllar, 
J., post, at pp. 19–22.)  State law already requires individuals to provide a fingerprint in 
order to get a driver’s license (Veh. Code, § 12800, subd. (c)), to become a school teacher 
(Ed. Code, § 44340), to be a professional engineer (Cal. Code Regs., tit. 16, § 420.1), to 
be a practicing attorney (Bus. & Prof. Code, § 6054, subd. (b)), or to join many other 
occupations (id., § 144 [requiring “a full set of fingerprints for purposes of conducting 
criminal history record checks” from applicants to 29 state licensing boards, including 
nurses, pharmacists, physicians, court reporters, funeral directors, guide dog instructors, 
contractors, and accountants]).  These requirements serve important public safety and law 
enforcement purposes.  But if DNA matching is constitutionally justified by its 
unparalleled efficacy in serving the “ ‘same’ ” identification “ ‘function’ ” as 
fingerprinting (maj. opn., ante, at p. 36, quoting King, supra, 569 U.S. at p. 451), then it 
is not clear what constitutional principle stands in the way of requiring a DNA sample in 
every context where the law now requires a fingerprint.  (See King, at p. 451 [“the only 
difference between DNA analysis and the accepted use of fingerprint databases is the 
unparalleled accuracy DNA provides”].)  One need not be a diehard civil libertarian to 
have serious qualms about where all of this may lead. 
 
I conclude with a few words about the court’s approach to state constitutional 
analysis against the backdrop of King.  Today’s opinion affirms that “the California 
Constitution is, and has always been, ‘a document of independent force’ [citation] that 
sets forth rights that are in no way ‘dependent on those guaranteed by the United States 
11 
Constitution’ (Cal. Const., art. I, § 24).”  (Maj. opn., ante, at p. 30.)  And the court is 
correct that “although decisions of the United States Supreme Court interpreting parallel 
federal text are not binding, we have said they are ‘entitled to respectful consideration.’ ”  
(Id. at p. 31.)  But the court errs in framing the inquiry as “whether adequate reasons are 
present here to conclude, despite King,” that the DNA Act is unconstitutional.  (Id. at 
p. 34.)  In analyzing the state constitutional issue, the court takes King as the starting 
point and asks “whether we should reject the high court’s Fourth Amendment guidance.”  
(Id. at pp. 33–34, fn. omitted.)  In so doing, the court appears to accord King “a 
presumption of correctness that has no sound basis in our federal system.”  (Liu, State 
Constitutions and the Protection of Individual Rights: A Reappraisal (2017) 92 N.Y.U. 
L.Rev. 1307, 1314.) 
“Just as the Supreme Court, when interpreting a provision of the Federal 
Constitution, does not accord a presumption of correctness to any state’s interpretation of 
an analogous state constitutional provision or even to an interpretation adopted by a 
majority of states, there is no reason why a state court, when interpreting a provision of 
its state constitution, should accord a presumption of correctness to the Supreme Court’s 
interpretation of an analogous federal constitutional provision.  State courts should and 
often do give respectful consideration to relevant Supreme Court decisions, just as they 
often give respectful consideration to relevant decisions of sister states.  And state courts 
may often be persuaded that the Supreme Court’s approach is correct and worthy of 
adoption, just as they may often be persuaded by a majority view among state high 
courts.  But the crucial point is that state courts, as the ultimate arbiters of state law, have 
the prerogative and duty to interpret their state constitutions independently.”  (Liu, supra, 
92 N.Y.U. L.Rev. at pp. 1314–1315.) 
As Justice Cuéllar notes, today’s opinion provides no convincing rationale for why 
our analytical approach to a state constitutional issue should depend on “the order in 
which this court decides an issue vis-à-vis the high court.”  (Dis. opn. of Cuéllar, J., post, 
12 
at p. 8.)  The court’s response is that “in instances where this court had previously 
decided an issue, that decision carried the persuasive force of stare decisis we always 
accord our own precedents, which had then to be balanced against the persuasive force of 
the contrary United States Supreme Court decision.  In instances where we had not 
previously decided an issue, no similar counterbalance existed.”  (Maj. opn., ante, at 
p. 34, fn. 9.)  But this statement of the obvious misses the point.  It does not explain why 
our approach should be different (1) when we consider a state constitutional issue of first 
impression on which the high court has spoken under federal law, as compared to (2) 
when we consider a state constitutional issue of first impression on which the high court 
has not spoken under federal law.  To be sure, in scenario (1) we should give respectful 
consideration to the views of the high court, as well as the views of other state courts that 
have decided the issue under their states’ laws.  But our duty to interpret the California 
Constitution independently is no different in scenario (1) than in scenario (2).  We may 
decide, in our independent judgment, that the views of the high court should be followed.  
But that is different from the mode of analysis in today’s opinion, which accords a 
presumption of correctness to the high court’s decision in King and then asks whether 
there are “sufficient reasons” to depart from King.  (Id. at p. 32, fn. 8.) 
Moreover, the court fundamentally missteps in attributing its deferential reading of 
King to “ ‘the fact that to [the high court] has been committed, by the consent of the 
states, the ultimate vindication of liberty and property against arbitrary and 
unconstitutional state legislation.’ ”  (Maj. opn., ante, at p. 31.)  It is of course true that 
the United States Supreme Court serves as a backstop against state infringements on 
constitutional rights, and when the high court issues a federal constitutional ruling, state 
courts “shall be bound thereby, any Thing in the Constitution or Laws of any State to the 
Contrary notwithstanding.”  (U.S. Const., art. VI, cl. 2.)  But that is not a reason for state 
courts to treat the floor of constitutional rights under federal law as a presumptive ceiling 
on constitutional rights under state law.  Doing so runs counter to the basic precept that 
13 
“ ‘ “federalism secures to citizens the liberties that derive from the diffusion of sovereign 
power.” ’ ”  (Bond v. United States (2011) 564 U.S. 211, 221.)  “The Framers concluded 
that allocation of powers between the National Government and the States enhances 
freedom” (ibid.), and a crucial feature of this freedom-enhancing allocation of powers is 
judicial federalism:  “state courts no less than federal are and ought to be the guardians of 
our liberties” (Brennan, State Constitutions and the Protection of Individual Rights 
(1977) 90 Harv. L.Rev. 489, 491).  “State courts interpreting state law remain particularly 
well situated to enforce individual rights against the States.  Institutional constraints, it 
has been observed, may limit the ability of [the United States Supreme] Court to enforce 
the federal constitutional guarantees.  Sager, Fair Measure:  The Legal Status of 
Underenforced Constitutional Norms, 91 Harv.L.Rev. 1212, 1217–1218 (1978).  Prime 
among the institutional constraints, [the United States Supreme] Court is reluctant to 
intrude too deeply into areas traditionally regulated by the States.  This aspect of 
federalism does not touch or concern state courts interpreting state law.”  (Arizona v. 
Evans (1995) 514 U.S. 1, 30–31 (dis. opn. of Ginsburg, J.).)  I do not see how deferring 
to high court decisions under federal law when we construe parallel provisions of state 
law serves the basic purposes of federalism, and the court has no answer on this point. 
Notwithstanding today’s opinion, this court is no stranger to the importance of 
judicial federalism.  In People v. Cahan (1955) 44 Cal.2d 434, we adopted the 
exclusionary rule for violations of the state constitutional prohibition on unreasonable 
searches and seizures, declining to follow the high court’s refusal to adopt a federal 
exclusionary rule in Wolf v. Colorado (1949) 338 U.S. 25.  In People v. Wheeler (1978) 
22 Cal.3d 258, we held that a prosecutor’s exercise of a racially motivated peremptory 
strike in an individual case violates the state constitutional right to be tried by a fair and 
impartial jury, declining to follow the contrary federal constitutional rule set forth in 
Swain v. Alabama (1965) 380 U.S. 202.  And in In re Marriage Cases (2008) 43 Cal.4th 
757, we held that laws denying same-sex couples the right to marry violate equal 
14 
protection under the state constitution, even though the only high court authority on point 
at the time, Baker v. Nelson (1972) 409 U.S. 810, had dismissed a similar appeal for want 
of a substantial federal question. 
In each of these instances, we interpreted the guarantees of our state constitution 
without according any deference or presumption of correctness to high court precedent.  
And on each of these issues, the high court eventually overruled its precedent and 
adopted as a matter of federal law the rule we had adopted as a matter of state law.  (See 
Mapp v. Ohio (1961) 367 U.S. 643, 651–653 [overruling Wolf and citing Cahan]; Batson 
v. Kentucky (1986) 476 U.S. 79, 82–82 & fn. 1 (1986) [overruling Swain and citing 
Wheeler]; Obergefell v. Hodges (2015) 576 U.S. __, __, __ [135 S.Ct. 2584, 2605, 2610] 
[overruling Baker and citing In re Marriage Cases].)  These examples show how the 
exercise of independent judgment by state courts in our system of judicial federalism 
provides a crucial safeguard for constitutional rights. 
Instead of looking to these examples, today’s opinion cites Gabrielli v. 
Knickerbocker (1938) 12 Cal.2d 85, which rejected a state constitutional challenge to a 
law requiring schoolchildren to salute and pledge allegiance to the flag.  (Maj. opn., ante, 
at p. 31.)  I would not rely on such dubious precedent.  Whatever may be said about the 
merits of the issue, the court’s analysis in Gabrielli consists of little more than uncritical 
acceptance of United States Supreme Court decisions that had rejected similar claims 
under the federal Constitution.  (See Gabrielli, at p. 89 [“[C]ogent reasons must exist 
before a state court in construing a provision of the state Constitution will depart from the 
construction placed by the Supreme Court of the United States on a similar provision in 
the federal Constitution.”], quoted in maj. opn., ante, at p. 31.)  Five years later, the high 
court overruled its precedent and decided the issue the other way in West Virginia State 
Board of Education v. Barnette (1943) 319 U.S. 624. 
In sum, we should not indulge any suggestion that the job of protecting individual 
rights in our federal system belongs primarily to the United States Supreme Court or that 
15 
the high court is invariably better positioned than state supreme courts to discharge that 
critical function.  Because I do not agree with the court’s analysis of the state 
constitutional question presented or its judgment upholding Buza’s conviction for 
refusing to provide a DNA sample just hours after his arrest, I respectfully dissent.  
Having concluded that Buza’s conviction for refusing to comply with the DNA Act is 
invalid under the California Constitution, I express no view on whether it is also invalid 
under the Fourth Amendment. 
LIU, J. 
WE CONCUR:  
 
CUÉLLAR, J. 
PERLUSS, J.* 
                                              
*      Presiding Justice of the Court of Appeal, Second Appellate District, Division Seven, 
assigned by the Chief Justice pursuant to article VI, section 6 of the California 
Constitution. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
DISSENTING OPINION BY CUÉLLAR, J. 
In California people are protected not only by federal constitutional guarantees 
against unreasonable searches or seizures, but by state constitutional provisions 
governing privacy and prohibiting arbitrary coercion.  These protections require 
courts to distinguish between routine lawful procedures, such as those governing 
collection of biological samples from convicts, and arbitrary commands purporting to 
force people who have not been convicted of anything to surrender their most private 
information.  (See Riley v. California (2014) 573 U.S. ___, ___ [134 S.Ct. 2473, 
2488] (Riley) [“Not every search ‘is acceptable solely because a person is in 
custody.’ ”]; White v. Davis (1975) 13 Cal.3d 757, 766 (White) [“The inherent 
legitimacy of the police ‘intelligence gathering’ function does not grant the police the 
unbridled power to pursue that function by any and all means.  In this realm, as in all 
others, the permissible limits of governmental action are circumscribed by the federal 
Bill of Rights and the comparable protections of our state Constitution.”].)  Yet the 
majority today sanctions the collection and analysis of DNA samples from all adults 
arrested on felony charges –– fully one-third of all arrestees –– regardless of whether 
those individuals will ever be charged with a crime or, if charged, ever convicted.  As 
Justice Liu explains in more detail, over half of these individuals are released before a 
judicial determination of probable cause.  But at whatever point the arrestees are 
released, their DNA sample stays with the government until the expungement process, 
which burdens individuals and is contingent rather than automatic, runs its course if it 
ever does. 
2 
For all these individuals, the majority provides no protection –– except to 
say that if they are exonerated, they may file written requests for the expungement 
of their DNA records.  In so holding, the majority sidesteps the problems 
associated with the collection and expungement procedures of Proposition 69, the 
DNA Fingerprint, Unsolved Crime and Innocence Protection Act (DNA Act or the 
Act).  It contends that the scope of the legitimate privacy rights of persons arrested 
is no different under our constitution than under the Fourth Amendment to the 
federal Constitution and, by implication, that our own constitution plays no role in 
determining whether the rights of a California citizen subjected to a search of his 
person and collection of his DNA have been violated.  I cannot agree. 
Our state Constitution provides heightened protections for the privacy 
rights of individuals, including arrestees.  Those protections do not vanish merely 
because someone is arrested.  An arrest itself requires probable cause –– but such 
cause, however probable, is a far cry from a conviction.  Indeed, the underlying 
logic of our system of criminal investigation and enforcement is grounded in the 
distinction between the relatively low-threshold probable cause determination and 
the onerous burden the government must carry to achieve a criminal conviction.  
The government may justify a variety of investigative activities without probable 
cause –– from routine patrol of a particular geographic location to following up on 
tips or information from undercover agents.  (E.g., Kyllo v. United States (2001) 
533 U.S. 27, 31–32 (Kyllo) [reiterating the “lawfulness of warrantless visual 
surveillance of a home”]; Illinois v. Gates (1983) 462 U.S. 213, 227, 243 [holding 
that a tip alone did not supply probable cause but the police follow-up 
investigation of the tip did].)  But when the Act compels the collection of a DNA 
sample before a determination of probable cause, the government’s rationale for 
seeking DNA samples for all felony arrestees is not sufficiently compelling to 
outweigh the intrusion on an arrestee’s privacy that accompanies the collection 
3 
and storage of his personal genetic information.  Though the United States 
Supreme Court may have reached a different conclusion when evaluating another 
state’s DNA collection statute under the federal Constitution, the role of our state 
charter, the unique importance it assigns to privacy, and the differences between 
the statute considered in Maryland v. King (2013) 569 U.S. 435 (King) and the 
DNA Act involved here all suggest that we should find the implicated provisions 
of the Act unconstitutional.  So I respectfully dissent. 
I. 
What the parties in this case have asked us to decide is whether the DNA 
Act’s provisions requiring collection from all adult felony arrestees violate article 
I, section 13 of the California Constitution.  So we begin by considering our state 
Constitution, its relationship to the federal charter, and where the two diverge. 
Construing a different statute and a different constitution, the high court in 
King decided that the Fourth Amendment permits — in some instances — 
collections of DNA from adults arrested for serious crimes.  (King, supra, 569 
U.S. at p. 446.)  Although such a decision merits “respectful consideration” when 
its analysis is relevant, our own constitution deserves far more than that.  In 
deciding whether our own state Constitution provides protection against the search 
or seizure at issue, we are not only free, but obligated, to perform an independent 
analysis.  (People v. Teresinski (1982) 30 Cal.3d 822, 835–836 (Teresinski) 
[“[T]he California courts, in interpreting the Constitution of this state, are not 
bound by federal precedent construing the parallel federal text. . . .  [T]he state 
courts, in interpreting constitutional guarantees contained in state constitutions, are 
independently responsible for safeguarding the rights of their citizens.” (internal 
quotation marks omitted)].)  Because of our precedent interpreting the scope of 
article I, section 13 and the relevance of article I, section 1’s explicit protection of 
4 
privacy, our constitution is more solicitous of the privacy interests of arrestees 
than the Fourth Amendment. 
The California Constitution is not some minor codicil to the United States 
Constitution.  As the majority has no choice but to acknowledge (maj. opn., ante, 
at pp. 30–31), our state Constitution is a document of “independent force,” whose 
meaning is to be independently distilled and propagated by this court, acting in our 
authority as the state court of last resort.  (Cal. Const., art. I, § 24 [making explicit 
that “[r]ights guaranteed by this Constitution are not dependent on those 
guaranteed by the United States Constitution”]; People v. Brisendine (1975) 13 
Cal.3d 528, 549–550 (Brisendine) [“the California Constitution is, and always has 
been, a document of independent force”]; People v. Longwill (1975) 14 Cal.3d 
943, 951, fn. 4 (Longwill) [stating that “in the area of fundamental civil liberties,” 
“we sit as a court of last resort” and “our first referent is California law and the 
full panoply of rights Californians have come to expect as their due”].)  In cases 
where the wording of the state constitutional provision at issue parallels a phrase 
in the federal Constitution, high court opinions on the subject merit respectful 
consideration.  (Teresinski, supra, 30 Cal.3d at p. 835.)  But any such parallels in 
wording must not occlude our state Constitution’s force as the basic charter of 
government, which is why it is appropriate in some circumstances to take a 
different course in interpreting our state Constitution.  (Ibid.) 
We have done so in a variety of cases, where we concluded that 
California’s Constitution extends protections to our citizens well beyond those the 
high court has announced in the federal context.  (Raven v. Deukmejian (1990) 52 
Cal.3d 336, 353–354 (Raven) [listing the “numerous decisions” from this court 
“interpreting the state Constitution as extending protection to our citizens beyond 
the limits imposed by the high court under the federal Constitution”]; see also, 
Longwill, supra, 14 Cal.3d at pp. 951–952 [holding that our state charter, unlike 
5 
the federal Constitution, does not allow for carte blanche “full body searches of all 
individuals subjected to custodial arrest”]; People v. Maher (1976) 17 Cal.3d 196, 
198–203 [concluding, as in Longwill, that “the search of [an arrestee’s] person 
beyond the scope of a pat-down was unlawful under article I, section 13, of the 
California Constitution”]; People v. Cook (1978) 22 Cal.3d 67, 88 [holding that 
because a Supreme Court’s decision “would afford our citizens less protection 
than is guaranteed to them under California law,” it is “not to be followed in 
California” and that “all challenges to the veracity of a search warrant affidavit in 
our courts are to be governed by [our own precedent] and article I, section 13, of 
the California Constitution”]; Gerawan Farming, Inc. v. Lyons (2000) 24 Cal.4th 
468, 476 [“the marketing order in question does not implicate any right to freedom 
of speech under the First Amendment, but does indeed implicate such a right 
under article I [of our state Constitution]”].) 
What’s more, within the specific context of search and seizure of arrestees, 
we have been quite explicit in holding that article I, section 13 provides greater 
protection than does the Fourth Amendment.  (Brisendine, supra, 13 Cal.3d at pp. 
545–546; Longwill, supra, 14 Cal.3d at p. 951 & fn. 4; People v. Norman (1975) 
14 Cal.3d 929, 939 (Norman); People v. Ruggles (1985) 39 Cal.3d 1, 9–11 
(Ruggles); see also People v. Laiwa (1983) 34 Cal.3d 711, 727 (Laiwa).)  In those 
cases, we have emphasized that article I, section 13 “requires a more exacting 
standard” for search and seizure cases arising in this state.  (Brisendine, supra, 13 
Cal.3d at p. 545.)  We’ve also rejected the notion — which the United States 
Supreme Court has embraced — that an individual subject to custodial arrest has 
significantly diminished expectations of privacy.  (Id. at p. 547 [“we cannot accept 
. . . that ‘an individual lawfully subjected to a custodial arrest retains no significant 
Fourth Amendment interest in the privacy of his person’ ”].)  Even full custodial 
arrest, booking, and incarceration do not authorize the police to search an arrestee 
6 
in the hope of discovering evidence of a more serious crime.  (See Laiwa, supra, 
34 Cal.3d at pp. 727–728.)  What these authorities make clear is as simple as it is 
important:  individuals placed under arrest enjoy greater protection against 
searches of their persons and things under our state Constitution than under the 
federal counterpart. 
The majority wisely avoids debating such principles.  Instead, it seeks to 
limit relevance of cases like Brisendine, Longwill, Norman, and Laiwa by 
asserting that they all concern “the constitutionality of a [field] search conducted 
immediately upon arrest,” and not, as was the case with petitioner Mark Buza, a 
search “conducted at the time of booking.”  (See maj. opn., ante, at p. 40.)  Yet it is 
far from clear why it should matter that these authorities concern searches done in 
the field.  We have not previously imposed limitations on the scope of the 
constitutional protections involved that would categorically cleave the rights of 
individuals subject to searches in the field from those being compelled to provide 
their DNA at the time of booking.  And existing distinctions do not detract from 
the fact that — in some circumstances — California residents have more robust 
rights than equivalent ones available under the federal Constitution.  (Brisendine, 
supra, 13 Cal.3d at pp. 550–551 [“in determining that California citizens are 
entitled to greater protection under the California Constitution against 
unreasonable searches and seizures than that required by the United States 
Constitution, we are embarking on no revolutionary course”].)  The question 
facing us is whether we should extend the same greater protection to our citizens 
in this situation, not whether we have done that exact thing before.1 
                                              
1  
I would also note that the DNA Act authorizes cheek swabs “immediately 
following arrest” and thus encompasses field searches.  (Pen. Code § 296.1, 
subd. (a)(1)(A).) 
7 
The majority suggests that we should not do so because the United States 
Supreme Court decided King before we considered the issue.  It implies that if the 
Supreme Court “had not yet decided the parallel question under the Fourth 
Amendment,” then we may be empowered to reach our own conclusions.  (Maj. 
opn., ante, at p. 33.)  But because King predated our consideration, our 
responsibility shifts from deciding the legality of the search under article I, Section 
13 to determining whether “we should reject the high court’s Fourth Amendment 
guidance.”  (Id. at pp. 33–34.) 
Nowhere in the majority opinion is there a persuasive justification for why 
the question is framed in terms of whether we should “reject” the United States 
Supreme Court’s “guidance.”  Of course we consider United States Supreme Court 
decisions when they address the scope of a federal constitutional right analogous 
to a state right, even if we are not required on federal supremacy grounds to adopt 
the same approach.  But unlike the majority, we treat our own precedent as worthy 
of –– at least –– “meaningful and careful consideration” as well.  (Maj. opn., ante, 
at p. 32, fn. 8.)  Our precedent makes clear that even where the relevant provision 
under our state charter shares “language [in] common” with the federal 
Constitution, we may interpret our constitution differently than how the high court 
reads the federal Constitution.  (See Am. Acad. of Pediatrics v. Lungren (1997) 16 
Cal.4th 307, 326 (Lungren) [“even when the terms of the California Constitution 
are textually identical to those of the federal Constitution, the proper interpretation 
of the state constitutional provision is not invariably identical to the federal courts’ 
interpretation of the corresponding provision contained in the federal 
Constitution”].)  What’s more, we have said the particular provision at stake here 
— article I, section 13 — affords arrestees more expansive protection than does 
the Fourth Amendment.  The majority relegates our decisions to the sideline in its 
rush to adhere to what it calls the high court’s “guidance,” but in fact, treats as 
8 
controlling authority.  In doing so, the majority fails to maintain fidelity to our 
caselaw and Constitution. 
The position the majority takes is in tension even with its own logic.  There 
is simply no good reason to believe that the order in which this court decides an 
issue vis-à-vis the high court should determine the outcome of our deliberation, or 
that we should read our prior cases as supporting some kind of ersatz presumption 
that we should ration as much as possible the discussion of state constitutional 
rights.  The framing is inconsistent with the majority’s purported “reaffirm[ation]” 
of “long-established principles” that the rights guaranteed by our state Constitution 
“are in no way ‘dependent on those guaranteed by the United States 
Constitution.’ ”  (Maj. opn., ante, at p. 30.)  If the rights of our citizens are not 
dependent on the federal Constitution, then our analytical route for determining 
what those rights are should not take a different course simply because the United 
States Supreme Court issued an opinion before we did. 
In replying to our criticism, the majority seeks its answer to the awkward 
question of why temporal order matters so much for its analysis in a rationale that 
it describes as “straightforward” — so straightforward, in fact, it may be captured 
in two words:  “stare decisis.”  (Maj. opn., ante, at p. 34, fn. 9.)  When we have 
not spoken, says the majority, the weight of stare decisis does not exist to 
counterbalance against the “force of the contrary United States Supreme Court 
decision.”  (Ibid.)  This contention is doubly flawed.  First, by positing that 
California courts have not spoken, the majority wrongly implies that nothing in 
our own precedent weighs as much as even a single federal court decision that’s 
not binding on us.  Yet as detailed in this section, any reasonable reading of our 
past decisions reveals them to be enormously relevant to the question before us. 
Second, how the majority decides to frame its inquiry is just as much a 
problem.  By asking whether we may grant our own courts a permission slip to 
9 
“depart” from a United States Supreme Court decision addressing a matter that is 
no more than partially similar to the case before us, the majority has done more 
than to adjust the weight on the state side of the jurisprudential scale relative to the 
federal side.  It’s dispensing with the scale altogether.  Instead of weighing the 
relative merits of the issue at hand according to our independent responsibility to 
construe our Constitution, the majority appears to deploy words like “depart” and 
“guidance” to embrace the view that we should presumptively comply with a 
United States Supreme Court opinion that does not even address the precise 
question before us.  In this new analysis, our own authorities are emaciated in 
importance by being read narrowly, such that booking searches are presumed to be 
so categorically distinct from field searches that nothing meaningful can be 
gleaned for this case from decisions involving the latter.  Meanwhile, a far-broader 
reading and presumption of validity is reserved for a non-binding United States 
Supreme Court decision — even though the decision is interpreting a different 
Constitution, and a different DNA collection scheme that does not come close to 
applying to all felony arrestees.  This position implies that the United States 
Supreme Court can dictate what we do whenever we interpret an issue under the 
California Constitution, despite our prior decisions supporting a contrary answer, 
so long as we have not previously resolved precisely the same question.  
Remarkably, this position removes both the “stare” and “decisis” from “stare 
decisis” –– inverting the concept to justify departures from California decisions 
governing the scope of state privacy protection. 
Those decisions underscore how adopting King’s approach would be at 
odds with article I, section 1 of California’s Constitution.  And it would be at odds 
with our case law construing that provision and emphasizing the importance of 
informational and dignitary privacy interests under California law.  In contrast to 
its federal counterpart, the California Constitution contains an express statement 
10 
about the importance of personal privacy:  “All people are by nature free and 
independent and have inalienable rights.  Among these are enjoying and defending 
life and liberty, acquiring, possessing, and protecting property, and pursuing and 
obtaining safety, happiness, and privacy.”  (Cal. Const., art. I § 1.)  True:  we have 
previously found that article I, section 1 does not by itself confer a privacy right 
substantively different from what article I, section 13 purports to protect.  (People 
v. Crowson (1983) 33 Cal.3d 623, 629.)  But neither have we held that this 
language is devoid of meaning when considered together with that of article I, 
section 13. 
The reason we have not so held is because the most sensible reading of the 
California Constitution would assign both importance and meaning to its mention 
of personal privacy.  Even if the language in article I does not create a separate 
class of privacy rights, at a minimum this reference underscores how certain 
infringements of personal privacy deserve heightened scrutiny in our search and 
seizure analysis relative to what the federal analysis requires.  Our cases 
construing article I, section 1 in relation to the federal Constitution reinforce this 
conclusion.  What we have emphasized is that the scope of the state constitutional 
right of privacy is broader than the concept of privacy the federal courts have 
identified — and that this distinction may at times lead us to provide greater 
protection for individuals’ privacy rights than the federal courts might.  (Lungren, 
supra, 16 Cal.4th at pp. 326–327 [“past California cases establish that, in many 
contexts, the scope and application of the state constitutional right of privacy is 
broader and more protective of privacy than the federal constitutional right of 
privacy as interpreted by the federal courts”].) 
Our cases have described the “core value” of article I, section 1 as 
protecting so-called “informational privacy,” meaning the privacy interest in 
sensitive and confidential personal information.  (Hill v. National Collegiate 
11 
Athletic Assn. (1994) 7 Cal.4th 1, 35–36 (Hill); Lungren, supra, 16 Cal.4th at p. 
406.)  We have found that article I, section 1 grew out of the electorate’s fears of 
“increased surveillance and data collection activity in contemporary society” 
(White, supra, 13 Cal.3d at p. 774), and was intended to address the potential 
collection, stockpiling, and use of individuals’ most personal information in an 
arbitrary and unjustified fashion.  (Ballot Pamp., Gen. Elec. (Nov. 7, 1972) 
argument in favor of Prop. 11, p. 27 (Article I, section 1 Ballot Pamp.) [privacy 
initiative targeted the “collecting and stockpiling [of] unnecessary information . . . 
and misusing information gathered for one purpose in order to serve other 
purposes or to embarrass”].)  Article I, section 1 provides special protection for 
what we have deemed “autonomy,” or dignitary, privacy, which we have 
described as protecting the interest in making “personal decisions or conducting 
personal activities without observation, intrusion, or interference.”  (Hill, supra, 7 
Cal.4th at p. 35.)  We have found dignitary privacy to embrace a person’s interest 
in retaining control over his or her own body and “bodily integrity.”  (Lungren, 
supra, 16 Cal.4th at pp. 326–327, 337.)  Finally, it has not escaped our attention 
that article I, section 1 addresses the unique harms that can occur when the 
government intrudes on a person’s privacy.  The proponents of the provision 
warned of the possibility of the government assembling “personal information” 
and referred specifically to the possibility that private information could be 
permanently stored in government records.  (Article I, section 1 Ballot Pamp., 
supra, at p. 26 [“Government agencies seem to be competing to compile the most 
extensive sets of dossiers of American citizens.  Computerization of records makes 
it possible to create ‘cradle-to-grave’ profiles of every American.”].) 
Given the nature of these concerns, the machinery of the DNA Act appears 
to epitomize the sort of intrusion relevant under article I, section 1.  The collection 
of DNA — whether it is via cheek swab or any of the other collection processes 
12 
the Act permits (see Pen. Code, § 298.1, subd. (b) [permitting the use of 
reasonable force to collect DNA database samples]) — violates the subject’s 
bodily integrity.  (See Hill, supra, 7 Cal.4th at pp. 40–41 [finding that the 
collection of a urine sample “impacts legally protected privacy interests”].)  And 
the use of that sample to create and store a DNA profile gives the government 
long-term access to the subject’s genetic code — some of the most personal 
information imaginable.  (Id. at p. 41 [“ ‘A person’s medical profile [as revealed 
by the collection and analysis of urine] is an area of privacy infinitely more 
intimate, more personal in quality and nature than many areas already judicially 
recognized and protected.’ ”]; Birchfield v. North Dakota (2016) 579 U.S. ___, 
___–___ [136 S.Ct. 2160, 2177] (Birchfield) [noting that DNA collection and 
analysis “put into the possession of law enforcement authorities a sample from 
which a wealth of additional, highly personal information could potentially be 
obtained”].)  The DNA Act’s processes thus seem to fall close to the heart of 
article I, section 1’s scope.  Consequently, it is vital to consider article I, section 1 
in our independent analysis of the constitutionality of the DNA Act under our state 
charter. 
Ultimately, the majority’s approach to constitutional federalism fails to do 
justice to the importance of state constitutional rights.  The majority does not 
appear to reject the well-settled principle that “[t]he construction of a provision of 
the California Constitution remains a matter of California law regardless of the 
narrower manner in which decisions of the United States Supreme Court may 
interpret provisions of the federal Constitution.”  (People v. Pettingill (1978) 21 
Cal.3d 231, 247–248.)  Yet it ironically finds that neither our constitution nor case 
law offers “adequate reasons” for us to take a fresh look at this case beyond what 
it takes to be the long shadow cast by King.  (Maj. opn., ante, at p. 34.) 
13 
The path we are bound to follow is a different one.  Instead of relying 
primarily on King to yield a tidy solution in this case, we owe it to the citizens of 
our state to perform an independent analysis to determine whether “ ‘the particular 
governmental invasion of a citizen’s personal security’ ” is reasonable under the 
circumstances of this case.  (In re Tony C. (1978) 21 Cal.3d 888, 892.)  Our 
analysis shows the intrusion to be unreasonable. 
II. 
Once we assign proper weight and meaning to the California Constitution, 
we can turn to the ultimate question in any case arising under article I, section 13:  
whether the search or seizure in question is reasonable.  (Ingersoll v. 
Palmer (1987) 43 Cal.3d 1321, 1329 (Ingersoll); see also Brisendine, supra, 13 
Cal.3d at p. 536.)  At issue here is the compelled physical production of a 
biological sample from someone who has not been convicted.  Whether this 
particular search satisfies the reasonableness standard is judged by balancing its 
intrusion on the individual’s reasonable expectations of privacy against its 
promotion of legitimate government interests.  (People v. Robinson (2010) 47 
Cal.4th 1104, 1120 (Robinson).)  In this section, we examine the interests the 
government says are served by the DNA Act.  Ultimately, such interests either 
ring hollow or prove insufficient to justify suspicionless, warrantless searches of 
the type allowed by the Act.  
As a threshold matter, it is questionable whether the DNA Act genuinely 
furthers many of the interests the government identifies.  The government must 
create a DNA profile and compare it against existing profiles to obtain any of the 
“identification” information it needs.  The State informs us here that it takes 
“around 30 days on average” to generate an identification profile from an 
arrestee’s DNA sample.  Yet in seeking to justify the collection of DNA, the 
government points to functions — verifying identity, making bail decisions, and 
14 
so forth — that it must perform near to the time an arrestee is booked and 
processed into jail, or shortly thereafter.  In fact, the Attorney General 
acknowledges that “in many cases” an arrestee is released from custody before the 
State obtains his or her DNA profile.  So, it seems unlikely that DNA collection 
actually furthers any of these identification interests; the government even 
acknowledges that it uses fingerprints, not DNA, to aid most of these decisions 
and that fingerprinting “plays the lead role in confirming who a person is.”  Law 
enforcement officials are able to collect fingerprints promptly, compare them 
against an electronic database composed of prints from various sources — 
including former arrestees but also civil sources such as persons who have served 
or are serving in the United States military, or have been or are employed by the 
federal government — and obtain a response as to any “hits” within approximately 
27 minutes.  (FBI, Integrated Automated Fingerprint Identification System 
archived at 
 [as of Apr. 2, 2018].)  In short, it seems 
that DNA collection does little to meaningfully further the State’s asserted 
interests in establishing an arrestee’s identity and making various intake and 
processing decisions. 
The majority acknowledges that there may be a delay of “weeks or months” 
between the initial booking and when a DNA profile is generated.  (Maj. opn., 
ante, at pp. 36–37.)  Nonetheless, it asserts that governmental interest in 
identifying arrestees is unaffected because information from an DNA profile — 
late as it may be in coming in — can still “influence the jailer’s decision about 
where to house the arrestee,” or lead to a “revisit [of] an initial determination to 
release the arrestee” or “impos[ition] [of] new release conditions.”  (Id. at p. 36.)  
The government did not advance interests so far removed from the time of 
15 
booking in its own briefs.  Tellingly, the majority has cited no source to suggest 
that jails have the capacity to rehouse felony arrestees — those arrested for 
“serious or violent” crimes (id. at p. 17) — in more secured places simply because 
they are now suspected of a second crime, as revealed by a “hit” against their 
DNA profile.  We also question the premise that a reassessment of the initial 
release decision is in itself a compelling governmental interest, especially when 
we have little idea — as neither the government nor the majority has told us — 
how often such a circumstance presents itself.  We are asked to tip the scale in 
favor of the government without knowing how many felony arrestees are released; 
released with less than a full set of conditions imposed; or face a revisit of the 
initial release determination when their DNA generates a hit (as opposed to an 
arrest on the new crime).  To expect that we would simply look past this absence 
of justification is to take the idea of a blindfold on the judicial process far too 
literally.  (See Riley, supra, 134 S.Ct. at p. 2485 [finding an asserted government 
interest inadequate when “neither the United States nor California offers evidence 
to suggest that their concerns are based on actual experience”].) 
Instead of the supposed interests tied to the initial arrest and booking, the 
most plausible justification for the present DNA collection is that it aids in 
identifying arrestees who may have been perpetrators of unsolved crimes.  
Proposition 69 was titled the “DNA Fingerprint, Unsolved Crime and Innocence 
Protection Act.”  Ballot arguments in favor of the initiative relied heavily on the 
promise that DNA collection would increase the likelihood of solving cold cases 
and help police investigations.  (See Ballot Pamp., Gen. Elec. (Nov. 2, 2004) 
argument in favor of Prop. 69.)  For instance, those arguments referenced a 
number of murders that had been solved based in part on DNA evidence and 
promised that the DNA Act would help “solve crime, free those wrongfully 
accused, and stop serial killers.”  (Ballot Pamp., Gen. Elec. (Nov. 2, 2004) text of 
16 
Prop. 69, p. 62.)  Likewise, the findings section of the proposed law declared that 
it would “solve crime[s],” “apprehend perpetrators,” expand the number of “cold 
hits and criminal investigation links,” and thereby “substantially reduce the 
number of unsolved crimes.”  (Id. at p. 135.) 
The Attorney General’s arguments in defense of the DNA Act suffer 
essentially the same malady.  Most of the government’s justifications for the DNA 
Act that the Attorney General emphasizes — even those couched in terms of 
“identity” — pivot on generalized concerns about crime-solving.  For instance, the 
Attorney General argues that since the DNA Act was enacted, the State has 
recorded more than 31,000 “hits” between identification profiles taken from 
arrestees and DNA stored from unsolved cases.  The government argues that DNA 
identification yields “substantial benefits” for law enforcement, and illustrates the 
point by referencing cold cases that were solved after many years when DNA 
evidence was collected and linked to the unsolved matter.  The government also 
argues that the “benefits” from the DNA Act include deterrence, insofar as a 
potential criminal is aware that the Act enhances law enforcement’s capacity to 
identify the perpetrators of crimes and prosecute them. 
 
Crime-solving through identification of such perpetrators can certainly 
constitute a legitimate government interest.  (See Robinson, supra, 47 Cal.4th at 
pp. 1121–1122.)  At issue here is not whether the government can have a 
legitimate interest in solving crimes, but whether such a generalized interest –– 
without more –– is sufficient to overcome the privacy rights of individuals subject 
to arrest.  We have made clear that where the primary purpose of a search or 
seizure is to detect crime or gather evidence of crime, the government must 
ordinarily have individualized suspicion that the person to be searched has 
committed a specific offense for the search or seizure to be valid.  (See Ingersoll, 
supra, 43 Cal.3d at pp. 1327–1328.)  Such individualized suspicion is utterly 
17 
missing when the government searches all arrestees for evidence that, at some 
unknown time in some unknown place under unknown circumstances, they might 
have committed some other unidentified crime. 
The risk in simply embracing generalized crime-solving as sufficient 
justification for compelled collection of a DNA sample from someone who has 
merely been arrested is that such a move may be understood to justify searches 
and seizures of people and places without any particularized suspicion.  The 
detection of legal wrongdoing is perhaps the preeminent justification for all 
policing activity, making such a generalized interest virtually always loom in the 
background when any law enforcement search is attempted.  To allow such an 
interest to tip the balance and allow for, first, an intrusion into the body; second, 
analysis of the information seized therefrom; and, finally, potentially indefinite 
retention of the results (regardless of the outcome of the initial arrest that served as 
justification for the search), is to permit such an interest to become not only 
omnipresent but also omnipotent.  Having trumped a person’s interest in what is 
often the most jealously guarded fount of information –– and having done so on 
the basis of nothing more than that the mere fact a person was subject to a felony 
arrest –– the diffuse governmental interest in generalized crime-solving will 
almost always overwhelm any offsetting consideration.  Which is why we must be 
especially vigilant before embracing the government’s argument.  (See King, 
supra, 569 U.S. at p. 482 (dis. opn of Scalia, J.) [acknowledging that “the 
construction of [] a genetic panopticon,” culled from “the taking of DNA samples 
from anyone who flies on an airplane,” “applies for a driver’s license,” or “attends 
a public school” would have the “beneficial effect of solving more crimes” but 
denouncing the idea that this was enough to override “the charter of our 
liberties”].) 
18 
         So it is beyond question that the government may deploy reasonable 
techniques to solve crime –– so long as those techniques do not effect a search or a 
seizure without individualized suspicion.  Yet the fact that the class of persons 
subject to the DNA Act is limited to arrestees, rather than all citizens, does not 
give rise to the necessary threshold of suspicion to conduct a generalized search 
for incriminating information, nor does it change the usual presumption that 
searches are unlawful absent a warrant.  Moreover, the warrant exception for a 
search incident to arrest is limited.  It allows only for searches to uncover evidence 
of the crime that gave rise to the arrest itself or weapons that might be used to 
injure an arresting officer or accomplish an escape.  (Brisendine, supra, 13 Cal.3d 
at p. 539.)  We made this rule clear in Brisendine, and have continued to adhere to 
it in subsequent cases, where we have refused to allow the fact of arrest to justify 
the warrantless search of arrestees, or their property, for items not related to one of 
these two governmental interests.  (See Ruggles, supra, 39 Cal.3d at pp. 11–12 
[finding search of containers in trunk of felony arrestee’s car unconstitutional]; 
Laiwa, supra, 34 Cal.3d at pp. 727–728 [finding search of individual’s tote bag 
following arrest unconstitutional].) 
Under this authority, even full custodial arrest, booking, and incarceration 
will not authorize law enforcement to conduct an exploratory search of an arrestee 
in the hope of discovering evidence of another, possibly more serious crime.  (See 
Laiwa, supra, 34 Cal.3d at pp. 727–728.)  Rather, booking an arrestee into custody 
only permits a further search necessary to serve the government’s administrative 
needs.  (Id. at p. 726; People v. Macabeo (2016) 1 Cal.5th 1206, 1214.)  In 
contrast to such searches, the DNA collection at issue would effect a search and 
seizure to uncover evidence of any and all illicit activities — those committed in 
the past as well as those that might be committed in the future, none of which the 
State has justifiable reason to suspect that the arrestee has done.  To allow such an 
19 
intrusion would contravene our precedent and dramatically expand the recognized 
exceptions to the warrant requirement.   
It is true that DNA sampling will “provide accurate and reliable 
identification of criminal offenders” and that “DNA samples, like fingerprints, 
may also be used to establish a suspect’s involvement in crimes.”  (Maj. opn., 
ante, at p. 35.)  What does not follow from this observation is that the 
constitutionality of fingerprinting renders DNA sampling constitutional.  To treat 
fingerprints and DNA samples as essentially similar is akin to comparing a single 
piece of fruit to a chain of supermarkets.  Neither we, nor the high court, have ever 
held that the taking of fingerprints, photographs, or the like invades any 
expectation of privacy, or otherwise heightens the risks that bring article I, section 
13 or the Fourth Amendment into play.2  To the contrary, we have indicated that 
the taking of fingerprints is “standard police procedure,” rather than a search or 
seizure of an arrestee’s person.  (People v. McInnis (1972) 6 Cal.3d 821, 825–826; 
see also Loder v. Municipal Court (1976) 17 Cal.3d 859, 865 (Loder).)3   
                                              
2  
None of the cases the Attorney General cites is to the contrary.  The 
Attorney General cites United States v. Mitchell (3d Cir. 2011) 652 F.3d 387, 411, 
for the proposition that the collecting of fingerprints has met with “universal 
approbation” from the courts.  But in Mitchell, the court embraced the DNA-
fingerprinting analogy in addressing a challenge to the federal DNA collection 
statute; the court did not consider a Fourth Amendment challenge to the practice 
of fingerprinting.  The same is true of Doe v. Sheriff of DuPage County (7th Cir. 
1997) 128 F.3d 586, which did not consider a Fourth Amendment challenge to 
fingerprinting but instead addressed a defendant’s argument that the sheriff should 
have permitted persons surrendering on warrants to post bond without being taken 
into custody.  (Id. at p. 588.) 
3  
United States v. Kelly (2d Cir. 1932) 55 F.3d 67, 69, which the majority 
relies on here (maj. opn., ante, at pp. 36–37), likewise demonstrates only that 
fingerprinting is a commonplace means of identification — not that it is, like DNA 
collection, a search that implicates an individual’s constitutional rights. 
20 
Rather than finding these police processes to constitute reasonable 
invasions of an arrestee’s privacy, our precedent instead concludes that the taking 
of fingerprints or photographs does not implicate article I, section 13 at all.  (See 
Loder, supra, at pp. 864–865 [arrestee’s right of privacy is not infringed by the 
taking of his fingerprints and photographs, or recording of his vital statistics].)  
The high court, likewise, has suggested that fingerprinting — and similar 
recordings of bodily characteristics that do not require an “intrusion into the body” 
— does not come within the Fourth Amendment’s scope.  (See United States v. 
Dionisio (1973) 410 U.S. 1, 14–15; see also Davis v. Mississippi (1969) 394 U.S. 
721, 727 [concluding that fingerprinting “involves none of the probing into an 
individual’s private life and thoughts that marks an interrogation or search”].)  In 
contrast to the collection of DNA, fingerprinting does not intrude on a person’s 
bodily autonomy, or record information that is not otherwise available to public 
view (like the image of one’s face or markings on a person’s body).  (Cf. 
Robinson, supra, 47 Cal.4th at pp. 1119–1120 [characterizing intrusions necessary 
for DNA profiling as “invasions of the body” constituting searches within the 
meaning of the Fourth Amendment].)  All this makes it difficult to accept the 
majority’s argument that DNA collection is tantamount to fingerprinting and 
therefore necessarily constitutional.  (See State v. Medina (2014) 102 A.3d 661, 
682–683 [rejecting comparison of DNA collection to fingerprinting in holding 
Vermont’s DNA collection statute unlawful under Vermont Constitution’s 
prohibition against unreasonable searches and seizures].) 
A recent United States Supreme Court decision also cuts against treating 
fingerprinting and DNA collection as equivalent.  In Birchfield, supra, 136 S.Ct. at 
p. 2185, the high court held that the search incident to arrest doctrine does not 
justify the warrantless taking of a blood sample to measure blood alcohol content 
21 
(BAC).  To reach this conclusion, the high court weighed the privacy interests 
affected by blood tests against the government’s need for such tests.  It found that 
the tests implicated significant privacy concerns — not only because of the 
intrusive nature of the tests, which involve piercing the skin, but also because a 
blood sample contains sensitive information which may be susceptible to 
substantial further analysis.  (Id. at p. 2178.)  The court noted that a blood test 
“places in the hands of law enforcement authorities a sample that can be preserved 
and from which it is possible to extract information beyond a simple BAC 
reading.”  (Ibid.)  As such, “[e]ven if the law enforcement agency is precluded 
from testing the blood for any purpose other than to measure BAC, the potential 
remains and may result in anxiety for the person tested.”  (Ibid.)  In contrast, 
“breath tests are capable of revealing only one bit of information, the amount of 
alcohol in the subject’s breath.”  (Id. at p. 2177.) 
Breath tests are like fingerprints, and DNA samples, like blood.  
Fingerprints reveal only limited bytes of information.  Not so with DNA.  DNA 
samples contain a wealth of genetic information, which would make an individual 
nervous about possible violations of his or her privacy as long as the information 
remains in the state’s possession.  The Supreme Court had no trouble 
distinguishing between breath and blood tests, finding one constitutional and the 
other not.  We likewise would do well not to ignore the distinction between DNA 
analysis and fingerprinting. 
 
Nor should we ignore that fingerprinting remains available to advance 
many of the very interests that allegedly support the DNA Act.  The existence of 
fingerprints as a fast and accurate means to ascertain the identity of an arrestee 
22 
further diminishes the state’s interest in identifying individuals by their DNA.  
Undoubtedly there are some instances where a DNA sample may help to solve a 
cold case but a set of fingerprints would not.  (See maj. opn., ante, at p. 37 
[identifying Robinson as one such case].)  Nonetheless, just as the “reasonableness 
[of blood tests] must be judged in light of the availability of the less invasive 
alternative of a breath test” (Birchfield, supra, 136 S.Ct. at p. 2184), DNA tests 
must be judged in light of the availability of the less invasive alternative of 
fingerprints — even if the alternative is not a perfect substitute.  The high court in 
Birchfield recognized various advantages that a blood test offers over a breath test 
(id. at pp. 2184–2185), and yet did not find that enough for the former to pass 
constitutional muster.  Instead, because “breath tests are significantly less intrusive 
than blood tests and in most cases amply serve law enforcement interests,” the 
court concluded that there was no sufficiently compelling justification for 
warrantless blood tests.  (Id. at p. 2185, italics added.)  The same conclusion 
follows with the DNA tests at issue here. 
III. 
Even as the DNA Act falls short of legitimately advancing the interests the 
government asserts, its requirements constitute a major intrusion into the privacy 
of all the people subject to its procedures.  Focusing solely on the physical 
collection of DNA samples understates the invasion at issue in this case.  The 
DNA Act is unusual in that it effects more than one intrusion into a person’s 
privacy and autonomy:  the intrusion occurs not only when the arrestee is 
physically subjected to the DNA collection, but also when his biological sample is 
processed to create a DNA profile, stored indefinitely in federal and state 
databases, and potentially analyzed in the future when conducting comparisons 
23 
against newly obtained samples.  This continuing intrusion makes the DNA Act’s 
search unlike other ordinary searches and seizures, as the potential infringement 
on an individual’s privacy is ongoing. 
The second intrusion — the processing, storage, and comparison of an 
individual’s DNA sample — is a far more significant invasion of an arrestee’s 
privacy.  That one’s DNA reveals much of a person’s most private, closely 
guarded information is difficult to dispute.  A DNA sample stored by the state 
contains an arrestee’s entire genetic code — information that has the capacity to 
reveal the individual’s race, biological sex, ethnic background, familial 
relationships, behavioral characteristics, health status, genetic diseases, pre-
disposition to certain traits, and even the propensity to engage in violent or 
criminal behavior.  (See United States v. Kriesel (9th Cir. 2013) 720 F.3d 1137, 
1149, 1159–1160 [citing Krimsky & Simoncelli, Genetic Justice (2010) at pp. 
231–232]; see also Abrams & Garrett, DNA and Distrust (2016) 91 Notre Dame 
L.Rev. 757, 763.)  The DNA profile maintained in state and federal databases thus 
has the potential to reveal vast amounts of personal information about those 
individuals, and to be used in ways starkly different relative to what justified the 
scheme.  (Krent, Of Diaries and Data Banks: Use Restrictions Under the Fourth 
Amendment (1995) 74 Tex. L.Rev. 49, 95–96.)  One can scarcely imagine personal 
information that falls more closely to the core of the “realm of guaranteed 
privacy” that constitutional protections against searches and seizures aim to 
protect.  (Kyllo, supra, 533 U.S. at p. 34; see also Ruggles, supra, 39 Cal.3d at pp. 
9–10 [article I, section 13 considers whether a search interferes with a person’s 
reasonable expectations of privacy]; United States v. Amerson (2d Cir. 2007) 483 
F.3d 73, 85 [describing the “vast amount of sensitive information that can be 
mined from a person’s DNA”].) 
24 
Given the extent of the interests involved, it should not be taken for granted 
that the State’s current practices or statutory provisions prohibiting misuse will 
mitigate the interference with an arrestee’s expectation of privacy.  (Cf. maj. opn., 
ante, at p. 38.)  For one, it is not necessarily the actual use of an individual’s DNA 
that invades her reasonable expectations of privacy.  (See Birchfield, supra, 136 
S.Ct. at p. 2178 [“Even if the law enforcement agency is precluded from testing 
the blood for any purpose other than to measure BAC, the potential remains and 
may result in anxiety for the person tested.”].)  Here, a privacy intrusion occurs 
from the mere fact of the government’s storage of an arrestee’s DNA, regardless 
of the way that the government uses it.  That the government retains access to a 
person’s most private, sensitive genetic information — and the risks implicit in 
such access — constitutes a violation in itself, even if the government does not 
presently wring from the DNA all the flows of information to be found there.  
(Ibid.; see also United States v. Jones, 565 U.S. 400, 415–416 (conc. opn. of 
Sotomayor, J.) [finding continuous GPS monitoring to be an unconstitutional 
search in part because of the risk that the government “[could] store such records 
and efficiently mine them for information years into the future”].) 
  Moreover, it is precisely this kind of intrusion that justifies California’s 
heightened privacy protections in the first place.  As discussed above, the purpose 
of the constitutional grant of privacy is to protect citizens from governmental 
surveillance and other forms of information gathering.  The DNA Act permits the 
government to store DNA with the potential to reveal information of an 
indisputably private nature.  Article I, section 13 of our state Constitution — as 
informed by the privacy clause of article I, section 1 — protects against such an 
invasion of core privacy.  (See Ruggles, supra, 39 Cal.3d at pp. 9–10.) 
Furthermore, that the DNA Act invades the privacy of arrestees in 
particular does not mean we can ignore the resulting privacy invasion — or the 
25 
risks associated with it.  We have rejected the premise that an individual placed 
under arrest — even custodial arrest — lacks a significant, constitutionally 
protected interest in the privacy of her person.  We have done so for good reason:  
valid justification to arrest an individual for a specific offense does not 
consequently extinguish all of her privacy rights, nor does it imply –– without 
more –– that there is a basis to suspect her of involvement in any other kind of 
felony.  (Brisendine, supra, 13 Cal.3d at p. 556.)  In contrast, convicted felons 
“ ‘retain no constitutional privacy interest against their correct identification.’ ”  
(Robinson, supra, 47 Cal.4th at p. 1121.)  But we have never held, as the 
government argues, that individuals lawfully placed under custodial arrest lack a 
constitutionally protected interest in their genetic identity.  
Nor can we consider the privacy interests at stake in this case solely from 
the perspective of an individual who has been lawfully arrested and convicted.  It 
is undisputed that Buza was arrested with probable cause and convicted of three 
felonies.  But Buza declined to provide a sample of his DNA during his booking 
into jail — long before his felony convictions, and prior to a probable cause 
determination by a neutral magistrate.  Whatever is the basis for a felony arrest, 
the arrestee may not be subjected to a presumption of guilt until proven innocent.  
At the time of refusal, Buza enjoyed the presumption of innocence, and the 
ultimate disposition of his felony charges was uncertain.  At that moment, Buza 
had just as much a right to assert noncompliance in order to raise a challenge 
against the DNA Act as an arrestee who would eventually be acquitted of felony 
charges.  Far from asserting the privacy interests of third parties, Buza challenges 
the DNA Act as it applies to himself under the circumstances of this case.  (Cf. 
Sabri v. United States (2004) 541 U.S. 600, 609 [disapproving of a facial 
challenge to the constitutionality of a statute]; In re Cregler (1961) 56 Cal.2d 308, 
26 
313 [“one will not be heard to attack a statute on grounds that are not shown to be 
applicable to himself”].) 
Suppose we waited instead for another case brought by a plaintiff lawfully 
arrested for, and ultimately acquitted of, a felony charge.  When this hypothetical 
plaintiff is told to submit to a DNA test upon arrest, she is presented with only two 
choices, both causing irreparable harm:  (1) she could refuse the test and be 
lawfully prosecuted for (and found guilty of) a misdemeanor; or (2) she could 
submit to the test, and suffer the very harm to her privacy that she would later 
attempt to mitigate partially by seeking expungement.  We may on occasion 
tolerate some degree of privacy harm and still uphold a search and seizure as 
reasonable.  (See, e.g., People v. Medina (1972) 7 Cal.3d 30, 40 [“Reasonableness 
of a search may depend on the degree of invasion of privacy which occurs.” 
(italics added)].)  But this case raises more serious privacy concerns, because of 
the character of the information the government seeks to obtain.  (See Birchfield, 
supra, 136 S.Ct. at p. 2178; State v. Medina, supra, 102 A.3d at p. 682 [stating 
that it is “important to note that the DNA samples being seized provide a massive 
amount of unique, private information about a person that goes beyond 
identification” in finding unconstitutional a state statutory amendment which had 
permitted DNA collection from all felony arraignees].)  By declining to reach the 
issue here, we force a potential future plaintiff to suffer irreversible adverse 
consequences, either by penal sanction or harm to genetic informational privacy.  
This seems a substantial burden to impose upon an individual seeking to challenge 
the infirmities of the retention provisions, particularly where, based on the facts of 
this case, the majority already implicitly recognizes that there are likely 
constitutional defects in the statutory provisions regarding the government’s 
retention of genetic information.  (Maj. opn., ante, at p. 25 [stating that “we must 
27 
leave for another day” the question of whether automatic expungement is 
constitutionally required for “the wrongly arrested or exonerated”].) 
That Buza was ultimately arraigned and convicted is therefore irrelevant to 
our analysis.  (Cf. maj. opn., ante, at pp. 2, 41–44.)  We must consider Buza’s 
claim in light of how he was situated when that claim accrued — when he was 
merely “[a]n arrestee whose arrest has not even been subjected to a judicial 
determination of probable cause,” and so held privacy interests “closest on the 
spectrum of privacy rights to an ordinary citizen.”  (People v. Buza (2014) 231 
Cal.App.4th 1446, 1488; see People v. Triggs (1973) 8 Cal.3d 884, 893 (Triggs) 
[“In seeking to honor reasonable expectations of privacy through our 
application of search and seizure law, we must consider the expectations of the 
innocent as well as the guilty.”].)  The majority makes much of the fact that Buza 
made incriminating statements when he was arrested, which it takes to mean that 
he knew his arrest was supported by probable cause.  (Maj. opn, ante, at pp. 20 & 
fn. 4, 42.)  Why exactly an individual arrestee’s subjective belief about probable 
cause should factor into the analysis is far from clear, particularly since we 
consider probable cause objectively, from the point of view of a reasonable person 
in possession of all the facts known to the arresting officer.  (E.g., Whren v. United 
States (1996) 517 U.S. 806, 812–813.)  Moreover, simply because Buza knew the 
authorities were “going to regard [his setting fire to a police car] as an illegal act” 
does not mean that he forfeited all reasonable expectations of privacy.  
Irrespective of Buza’s state of mind when he was arrested, his refusal to allow 
collection of his DNA sample at booking spoke volumes in manifesting his 
subjective expectation of privacy.  The question facing us here is whether that 
expectation is reasonable.  Because of the veil of ignorance that prevents society 
from knowing for certain whether an arrested individual is in fact guilty of the 
offense that is the basis for the arrest, Buza was in every meaningful respect 
28 
indistinguishable from an arrestee who is later found to be innocent.  So we 
explore the reasonableness of Buza’s privacy expectation from that perspective. 
Unlike the Maryland statute scrutinized in King, the DNA Act does not 
require that a lawful arrest have occurred before DNA collection, as it permits the 
retrieval and processing of a DNA sample before a magistrate or other judicial 
officer has determined that the arrest was supported by sufficient probable cause.  
This aspect of the DNA Act vastly expands the number of individuals subject to its 
dragnet.  As Justice Liu points out, almost one in five felony arrestees are released 
prior to a judicial determination of probable cause.  Yet all of these individuals 
must allow their DNA to be collected and retained by the state (for at least 180 
days) under threat of criminal sanction.  (Pen. Code, § 299, subd. (c)(2)(D).)  Even 
more invidiously, the fact that the state may compel a DNA sample from even 
those wrongfully arrested provides the perverse incentive for law enforcement to 
engage in pretextual arrests as a means to obtain a person’s DNA and wherefore 
uncover evidence of crimes. 
The DNA Act’s lack of an automatic expungement provision exacerbates 
such concerns.  Again, unlike the Maryland statute, the Act does not require the 
destruction of the DNA sample and removal of any resulting profile from state and 
federal databases if the individual at issue is never convicted of a felony.  Instead, 
the DNA Act requires a discharged arrestee to initiate expungement proceedings 
and navigate the resulting process himself.  Although the Department of Justice 
assures us that the “vast majority of requests have resulted in expungement,” the 
Attorney General does not provide — and the record does not elsewhere contain 
— any information about how often eligible individuals initiate expungement 
proceedings in the first place.  The absence of automatic expungement 
proceedings, and the employment of a process that requires the arrestee to initiate 
expungement and provide required documentation, heightens the possibility that 
29 
the State will retain possession of DNA profiles for individuals who were never 
convicted of qualifying felonies, who may never have been charged with a felony 
in the first place, or who may not have been lawfully arrested at all. 
Ironically, the interests advanced by the Attorney General on behalf of the 
state — i.e., generalized crime solving, proper housing of arrestees within the jails, 
and decision-making about pretrial release — are likely to be quite well-served 
even if the statutory scheme avoided its present constitutional defects.  Indeed, the 
concerns about inadequate expungement measures and pretextual or abusive 
arrests could be alleviated by provisional amendments to the DNA Act already 
enacted by the Legislature.  Under the version of the Act that will become 
operative if we affirm the appellate court, a jail official is not to transmit a DNA 
sample to the Department of Justice until there has been a felony arrest warrant 
signed by a magistrate, a grand jury indictment issued, or a judicial determination 
of probable cause for the arrest.  (Pen. Code, § 298, subd. (a)(1)(A).)  Waiting for 
a neutral determination of probable cause would add, at most, 48 hours to the 30 
days needed on average to process a DNA sample.  (See County of Riverside v. 
McLaughlin (1991) 500 U.S. 44, 56.)  In view of the delays already associated 
with DNA processing, postponing the process until a detached and neutral 
magistrate has found probable cause would diminish none of the state’s interests 
furthered by the DNA Act, since the state would be as able to “identify” arrestees 
after a 32-day waiting period as it would after a 30-day period.  The amendment, 
however, would significantly cut down on the number of people whose privacy is 
invaded due to the analysis, storage, and comparison of their DNA samples. 
Nowhere does the majority seem to reject the merits of that approach.  (See 
maj. opn., ante, at pp. 21–22.)  Instead, it argues that since DNA processing is so 
slow, processing of the arrestees’ samples in practice — regardless of what the law 
permits — usually does not take place until judicial probable cause has been made 
30 
anyway.  (Id. at p. 22.)  The slow operation of existing technology and institutional 
practices thus become features supporting the constitutionality of the Act.  As odd 
as this argument is, its force is sapped further still by the Act’s blanket permission 
for the processing of DNA samples even if a magistrate finds that the arrest was 
without probable cause.  (See Pen. Code, § 298 [requiring jail officials to 
“promptly” forward biological samples to the Department of Justice without 
providing any exception for those wrongfully arrested].)  The burden remains on 
the individual — even if wrongfully arrested or later exonerated — to seek 
expungement.  But were we to strike down the Act, automatic expungement would 
become law.  (See Pen. Code, § 299 [conditional provision to the Act requiring 
automatic expungement of DNA profiles from databank when the arrests do not 
lead to valid convictions].)  In contrast, the existing statute creates a default 
regime that requires DNA samples from anyone subject to a felony arrest –– 
irrespective of whether they will eventually be judged guilty or whether a neutral 
magistrate finds probable cause — and leaves the state in a position to retain such 
information indefinitely unless expungement is pursued and achieved. 
None of these observations implies we should strike down the DNA Act 
because we prefer its replacement on policy or prudential grounds.  (Cf. maj. opn., 
ante, at p. 29, fn. 7.)  Instead we emphasize what remains obvious even if 
downplayed by the majority:  the Legislature has approved a law that 
accomplishes much of the Government’s interests while alleviating the 
constitutional problem. 
While the DNA Act is an initiative entitled to a presumption of validity, the 
searches it permits — and in fact, requires law enforcement to carry out — occur 
without a warrant or probable cause.  If those searches are to be upheld, it is the 
State’s burden to persuade us that they fall within one of the recognized 
exceptions to the warrant requirement, or that they are otherwise reasonable.  
31 
While “mere doubt” about the DNA Act’s invalidity is not reason enough to strike 
it down (Calfarm Insurance Co. v. Deukmejian (1989) 48 Cal.3d 805, 814 
(Calfarm)), we must nevertheless require the State to justify the searches the Act 
accomplishes.  In this case, the State has not carried its burden to show the 
reasonableness of its searches when balanced against the interference with 
individual privacy.  So provisions of the DNA Act authorizing such unreasonable 
searches must be struck down. 
Insofar as the majority would lean on majoritarian impulses to imply that 
something more is required because the Act is an initiative passed by voters (see 
maj. opn., ante, at pp. 22–23, 34, 44), we note that there is no formal distinction in 
our role in evaluating initiatives versus legislation enacted by representative 
political institutions.  (Calfarm, supra, 48 Cal.3d at pp. 814–815 [evaluating an 
initiative “ ‘in the light of established constitutional standards’ ” and finding it 
unconstitutional].)  The Constitution applies both, and equally, to legislators and 
the general public. The majority cannot mean to suggest otherwise. 
In the final analysis, arrestees do not have such diminished expectation of 
privacy as to permit the State to retain their DNA profile and conduct repeated 
searches of it.  As such, when weighed against the State’s generalized interest in 
identifying arrestees and solving crimes, an arrestee’s reasonable privacy interest 
in his or her genetic information — uniquely protected under the California 
Constitution — must win.  (Triggs, supra, 8 Cal.3d at p. 892 [“ ‘important as 
efficient law enforcement may be, it is more important that the right of privacy 
guaranteed by these constitutional provisions be respected’ ”].) 
 
 
32 
IV. 
The DNA Act unlawfully invades people’s reasonable expectation of 
privacy in their personal genetic information.  Any diminished expectation of 
privacy arrestees may or may not have in their genetic code does not justify an 
intrusion of this magnitude.  The government’s asserted interest in identifying 
individuals in its custody and solving crimes may prove important in justifying a 
variety of practices.  But it does not countenance this intrusion, as the 
government’s rationale for the DNA Act is neither borne out by the Act’s 
implementation nor consistent with our precedent’s restrictions on suspicionless 
searches.  This makes the DNA Act unconstitutional under our state charter as 
applied to felony arrestees — individuals, like Buza, who are not yet known to be 
lawfully arrested, much less found guilty.  Far from invalidating the work of the 
California electorate, striking down the Act would vindicate our core 
constitutional values, which recognize that our citizens have the “inalienable 
rights” to be free of arbitrary governmental intrusion and to enjoy “safety, 
happiness, and privacy.”  (Cal. Const., art. I, §§ 1, 13.) 
With respect, I dissent. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
CUÉLLAR, J. 
 
WE CONCUR: 
 
LIU, J. 
PERLUSS, J.* 
 
                                              
*  
Presiding Justice of the Court of Appeal, Second Appellate District, 
Division Seven, assigned by the Chief Justice pursuant to article VI, section 6 of 
the California Constitution. 
 
See last page for addresses and telephone numbers for counsel who argued in Supreme Court. 
 
Name of Opinion People v. Buza 
__________________________________________________________________________________ 
 
Unpublished Opinion 
Original Appeal 
Original Proceeding 
Review Granted XXX 231 Cal.App.4th 1446 
Rehearing Granted 
 
__________________________________________________________________________________ 
 
Opinion No. S223698 
Date Filed: April 2, 2018 
__________________________________________________________________________________ 
 
Court: Superior 
County: San Francisco 
Judge: Carol Yaggy 
 
__________________________________________________________________________________ 
 
Counsel: 
 
J. Bradley O’Connell and Kathryn Seligman, under appointments by the Supreme Court; and Janice 
Wellborn, under appointment by the Court of Appeal, for Defendant and Appellant. 
 
Michael T. Risher; Joseph R. Grodin; Paul Hastings, Peter C. Meier, Eric A. Long and Jamie L. Williams 
for American Civil Liberties Union Foundation of Northern California as Amicus Curiae on behalf of 
Defendant and Appellant. 
 
Hanni Fakhoury, Jennifer Lynch and Lee Tien for Electronic Frontier Foundation as Amicus Curiae on 
behalf of Defendant and Appellant. 
 
Linda F. Robertson and Jennifer Friedman for California Public Defenders Association, California 
Attorneys for Criminal Justice and Los Angeles County Public Defender as Amici Curiae on behalf of 
Defendant and Appellant. 
 
Daniel J. Broderick, David Porter and Rachelle D. Barbour for Federal Public Defender of the Eastern 
District of California and National Association of Criminal Defense Lawyers as Amici Curiae on behalf of 
Defendant and Appellant. 
 
Edmund G. Brown Jr., Kamala D. Harris and Xavier Becerra, Attorneys General, Edward C. DuMont, State 
Solicitor General, Dane R. Gillette and Gerald A. Engler, Chief Assistant Attorneys General, Jeffrey M. 
Laurence, Assistant Attorney General, Steven T. Oetting and Michael J. Mongan, Deputy State Solicitors 
General, Max Carter-Oberstone, Associate Deputy State Solicitor General, Joyce Blair, Stan Helfman and 
Enid A Camps, Deputy Attorneys General, for Plaintiff and Respondent. 
 
Fulbright & Jarowski, Norton Rose Fulbright US, Eric A. Herzog, Tillman James Breckenridge and 
Jonathan S. Franklin for DNA Saves as Amicus Curiae on behalf of Plaintiff and Respondent. 
 
Steve Cooley and Jackie Lacey, District Attorneys (Los Angeles), Irene Wakabayashi, Steven Katz, Phyllis 
C. Asayama and Roberta Schwartz, Deputy District Attorneys, for Los Angeles County District Attorney as 
Amicus Curiae on behalf of Plaintiff and Respondent. 
 
 
 
 
 
Page 2 – S0223698 – counsel continued 
 
Counsel: 
 
Jan Scully, District Attorney (Sacramento), Anne Marie Schubert, Deputy District Attorney; W. Scott 
Thorpe, Mark Zahner and Albert C. Locher for California District Attorneys Association as Amicus Curiae 
on behalf of Plaintiff and Respondent. 
 
Jones & Mayer, Martin J. Mayer, James Touchstone and Deborah Pernice-Knefel for California State 
Sheriffs’ Association, California Police Chiefs’ Association and California Peace Officers’ Association as 
Amici Curiae on behalf of Plaintiff and Respondent. 
 
Hill Wallack, Christopher H. Asplen; Newton Rimmel and Ronald F. Rimmel for Global Alliance for 
Rapid DNA Testing as Amicus Curiae on behalf of Plaintiff and Respondent. 
 
Tony Rackauckas, District Attorney (Orange), Jim Tanizaki and Camille Hill, Assistant District Attorneys, 
Scott G. Scoville, Tammy Sprugeon, Andrew E. Katz, Katherine David and Nancy Hayashida, Deputy 
District Attorneys, for Orange County District Attorney as Amicus Curiae on behalf of Plaintiff and 
Respondent. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Counsel who argued in Supreme Court (not intended for publication with opinion): 
 
J. Bradley O’Connell 
First District Appellate Project 
475 Fourteenth Street, Suite 650 
Oakland, CA  94162 
(415) 495-3119 
 
Michael J. Mongan 
Deputy State Solicitor General 
455 Golden Gate Avenue, Suite 11000 
San Francisco, CA  94102-7004 
(415) 703-2548