Federal Rule of Evidence 704(b) prohibits an expert witness from offering an opinion “about whether the defendant did or did not have [the] mental state” needed to convict her of a crime. “Those matters,” the Rule instructs, “are for the trier of fact alone.” Following the government's lead, the Court today carves a new path around that command. There's no Rule 704(b) problem, the Court holds, as long as the government's expert limits himself to testifying that most people like the defendant have the mental state required to secure a conviction.
Page Proof Pending Publication The upshot? The government comes away with a powerful new tool in its pocket. Prosecutors can now put an expert on the stand—someone who apparently has the convenient ability to read minds—and let him hold forth on what “most” people like the defendant think when they commit a legally proscribed act. Then, the government need do no more than urge the jury to fnd that the defendant is like “most” people and convict. What authority exists for allowing that kind of charade in federal criminal trials is anybody's guess, but certainly it cannot be found in Rule 704.
I
Delilah Diaz's conviction for drug traffcking turned on her state of mind. In that, hers was an everyday case. Often in our criminal justice system, the difference between freedom and years in prison turns on just that question. Perhaps it has always been so. The government's duty to prove that the defendant it seeks to convict had a culpable state of mind when committing a proscribed act is as ancient as it is fundamental to our system of justice. At common law, “a complete crime” generally required “both a will” (or mens rea) “and an act” (or actus reus). 4 W. Blackstone, Commentaries on the Laws of England 21 (1769) (Blackstone). That same view “took deep and early root in American soil” where, to this day, a crime ordinarily arises “only from concurrence of an evil-meaning mind with an evil-doing hand.” Morissette v. United States, 342 U. S. 246, 251–252 (1952); see 1 J. Bishop, Commentaries on the Criminal Law § 291, p. 163 (6th ed. 1877) (Bishop). So ingrained is this view that courts have long presumed criminal statutes demand proof of mens rea even when they are “silent” on the subject. Morissette, 342 U. S., at 252; see Staples v. United States, 511 U. S. 600, 605 (1994).
Why does our law generally insist not just on a bad act but also a culpable state of mind? A signifcant part of it has to do with respect for the individual and his liberty in a Page Proof Pending Publication free society. “Criminal liability imports a condemnation, the gravest we,” as a Nation, “permit ourselves to make.” H. Wechsler, American Law Institute II–A Thoughtful Code of Substantive Law, 45 J. Crim. L. & C. 524, 528 (1955) (Wechsler); see also 4 Blackstone 20–21; 1 Bishop § 287, at 161. Of course, our law recognizes gradations of mens rea, ranging from purpose and knowledge to recklessness and negligence. See, e. g., ALI, Model Penal Code § 2.02 (1985); United States v. Bailey, 444 U. S. 394, 404 (1980). But to subject a presumptively free individual to serious punishments for acts undertaken without proof of any of that would be “the badge of tyranny, the plainest illustration of injustice.” Wechsler 528. The principle “that an injury can amount to a crime only when inficted” with some accompanying mens rea is, we have said, “as universal and persistent in mature systems of law as belief in freedom of the human will and a consequent ability and duty of the normal individual to choose between good and evil.” Morissette, 342 U. S., at 250.
At trial, deciding whether a criminal defendant acted with a culpable mental state is a job for the jury. No matter how “clear the proof” or “incontrovertible” the inference, the question whether a defendant possessed a culpable mens rea “must always be submitted to the jury.” Id., at 274 (internal quotation marks omitted). Always, too, the government bears the burden of proving the requisite mens rea. Never, we have held, may the government seek to “shift the burden of proof to the defendant.” Patterson v. New York, 432 U. S. 197, 215 (1977); see Mullaney v. Wilbur, 421 U. S. 684 (1975). Nor may a court instruct a jury that it must presume a defendant's state of mind from any particular set of facts, no matter how compelling they may be. Francis v. Franklin, 471 U. S. 307, 316 (1985).
Refecting the centrality of mens rea to criminal punishment and the jury's role in fnding it, Rule 704(b) of the FedPage Proof Pending Publication Page Proof Pending Publication eral Rules of Evidence provides that, “[i]n a criminal case, an expert witness must not state an opinion about whether the defendant did or did not have a mental state or condition that constitutes an element of the crime charged or of a defense.” As the Rule continues: “Those matters are for the trier of fact alone.”
By all accounts, the immediate impetus for the Rule was the trial of John Hinckley for the attempted assassination of President Ronald Reagan. Ante, at 533. In that case, experts didn't just offer competing views on whether Hinckley suffered from a medically diagnosable mental illness. They went much further. The trial descended into a battle between experts who claimed to know exactly what Hinckley was (or was not) thinking at the moment he pulled the trigger. Ibid. In the trial's aftermath, Congress continued to recognize the value of expert mental health evidence. So, for example, an expert may still testify that the defendant suffered from some diagnosable illness or syndrome at the time of the charged act and discuss its symptoms. Cf. ante, at 540–541 (Jackson, J., concurring) (discussing schizophrenia and battered woman syndrome). From testimony like that, a jury might infer that the defendant did not have the requisite mental state to convict. But in Rule 704(b) Congress declared that task belonged to the jury alone, and allowing a parade of witnesses to speculate about what did or did not transpire in the head of a particular defendant at a particular moment in the past did not refect well on federal judicial proceedings and did not aid the jury.
Rule 704(b) may have been a new addition to the Federal Rules of Evidence, but it refects a much older tradition. For centuries, courts have grappled with the role expert witnesses should play at trial. See, e. g., 1 S. Greenleaf, Evidence § 440, p. 489 (1842); Folkes v. Chadd, 3 Dougl. 157, 158– 159, 99 Eng. Rep. 589, 590 (K. B. 1782). For a long stretch, many courts barred experts from offering opinions on so- called ultimate issues like mens rea. See 3 J. Wigmore, Evidence §§ 1920, 1921 (1904); United States v. Spaulding, 293 U. S. 498, 506 (1935). The Federal Rules of Evidence are no longer so strict, see Fed. Rule Evid. 704(a), except in one respect: mens rea. On that particular issue, Congress has concluded that jurors need no help from experts. They are fully capable of drawing reasonable inferences from the facts and deciding whether the defendant acted with the requisite mens rea. And in criminal trials that is their job alone.
II
The government violated that Rule in this case. Proceedings began when prosecutors charged Ms. Diaz with importing a controlled substance into this country. See 21 U. S. C. §§ 952, 960(a)(1). At the trial that followed, Ms. Diaz did not dispute that she had transported drugs across the border. The only question concerned her mens rea. If, as the government charged, she transported the drugs “knowingly,” she faced a potential sentence of up to life in prison. See §§ 960(a)(1), (b)(1)(H). If, however, Ms. Diaz acted with some lesser mens rea (say, negligence), or perhaps innocently (as what some call a “blind mule”), she was entitled to an acquittal.
To help prove that Ms. Diaz “knowingly” imported drugs, the government called to the stand Andrew Flood, one of its own employees, an agent with the Department of Homeland Security. Ms. Diaz had made no admissions to him about her mental state, nor had Agent Flood even interviewed her. Instead, prosecutors called Agent Flood as an expert on the minds of drug couriers (yes, really). App. 17; United States' Notice in No. 3:20–cr–02546 (SD Cal.), ECF Doc. 30, p. 7. And in response to the government's questions, Agent Flood testifed that, “in most circumstances, the driver knows they are hired . . . to take the drugs from point A to point B.” App. to Pet. for Cert. 15a.
Page Proof Pending Publication That was a violation of Rule 704(b), plain as day. Just walk through its terms. The government called Agent Flood as an “expert witness” to address the question “whether the defendant did or did not have a mental state . . . that constitutes an element of the crime charged.” After all, whether Ms. Diaz acted “knowingly” was the only question at trial, all that separated her from a conviction. And Agent Flood proceeded to do just as he was asked, offering an “opinion about” that very question.
To be sure, prosecutors thought they had a clever way around the problem. They did not ask Agent Flood to testify explicitly about Ms. Diaz's mental state. Instead, they asked the agent to testify about the mental state of people exactly like Ms. Diaz, drivers bringing drugs into the country. And that, the prosecutors argued, made all the difference. See App. 32a; Brief for United States in No. 21–50238 (CA9), pp. 46, 58. The Ninth Circuit endorsed the government's maneuver, holding that Rule 704(b) prohibits only testimony “ `explicit[ly]' ” about the defendant's mental state, not testimony about the mental state of a class of persons that includes her. App. to Pet. for Cert. 6a (quoting United States v. Gomez, 725 F. 3d 1121, 1128 (CA9 2013)).
Before us, however, even the government disavows the full implications of that reasoning. Now, it concedes, the Rule does more than bar an expert from testifying “explicitly” that the defendant had the mental state required for conviction. Tr. of Oral Arg. 72–73, 76. The Rule also bars an expert from testifying that a class of persons (say, all people carrying drugs over the border) has the legally proscribed mental state when that class includes the defendant. Brief for United States 36; ante, at 535–536. Likewise, the Rule bars an expert from opining that a hypothetical person who matches the defendant's description (say, a hypothetical woman who drives a car full of drugs across the border) will have the mental state required for conviction. Tr. of Oral Arg. 67. All those opinions, the government now acknowledges, are Page Proof Pending Publication “about” the defendant's mental state and cannot be offered consistent with Rule 704(b). On this, the Court, too, agrees. Ante, at 535–536.
III
So what is left? Instead of vacating and remanding the case to the Ninth Circuit to correct its error, the government asks us to affrm its judgment on other grounds. As the government sees it, Agent Flood's opinion was permissible for a different reason than the Ninth Circuit offered. It was permissible, the government says, because it wasn't defni tive. So, yes, an expert cannot testify that all persons in a class that includes the defendant have a culpable mental state. Brief for United States 36. But, the government insists, everything changes when an expert offers (as Agent Flood offered) only a probabilistic assessment that most such persons do.
I cannot see how that gambit begins to solve the government's problem. The Rule does not only prohibit an expert from stating a defnitive opinion about the defendant's mental state (or, as the government concedes, the mental state of a class that includes her). It prohibits an expert from offering any opinion on the subject. Return, once more, to the Rule's terms. It bars an expert from stating an opinion “about whether the defendant” had “a mental state . . . that constitutes an element of the crime charged.” (Emphasis added.) The word “about” means “[c]oncerning, regarding, with regard to, in reference to; in the matter of.” Oxford English Dictionary (3d ed., June 2024); see Brief for Petitioner 18; see also American Heritage Dictionary 5 (def. 4a) (5th ed. 2011). So whether an expert's opinion happens to be defnitive or probabilistic makes no difference. An expert may not state any opinion concerning, regarding, or in reference to whether the defendant, while committing a charged criminal act, had the requisite mental state to convict. Period. Lest any doubt remain, the Rule takes Page Proof Pending Publication pains to emphasize, “[t]hose matters are for the trier of fact alone.”
Consider, too, how the government's present theory collapses into the one it has disavowed. Just imagine if Agent Flood had explicitly addressed Ms. Diaz and said she “most likely knew” she was carrying drugs. Would that testimony be permissible under Rule 704(b)? Of course not. Probabilistic though the testimony may be, an expert who says that an individual defendant “most likely” had the requisite mental state for conviction offers an opinion about, concerning, regarding, or in reference to her mental state. On that, no dispute exists. So how can it be, as the government insists, that an expert may offer the probabilistic assessment that “most” people like the defendant know they are carrying drugs? The only difference between the two opinions is that the frst addresses the defendant “explicitly,” the second a class that includes her. All of which returns us to a distinction that the government itself seems to acknowledge the Rule does not tolerate.
Observe, as well, where today's tiptoeing around the Rule promises to lead. The Court adopts the government's muddled view that an expert cannot offer a probabilistic opinion about the mental state of the defendant explicitly but can offer a probabilistic opinion about the mental state of a group that includes the defendant. So what happens next? In this case, Agent Flood said “most” people in the defendant's shoes have the requisite mens rea. But what if he said, as the government initially proffered, that drivers “generally” know? ECF Doc. 30, at 7. Or that they “almost always” know? Or perhaps an expert puts a fner point on it: “In my experience, 99% of drug couriers know.” When cases like those come to us, likely one of two things will happen. We will draw some as-yet unknown line and say an expert's probabilistic testimony went too far.
Or we will hold anything goes and eviscerate Rule 704(b) in the process. Page Proof Pending Publication Rather than face either of those prospects, how much easier it would be to follow where the Rule's text leads.
IV
The government's approach, adopted by the Court today, is no more necessary than it is appropriate. Yes, proving a defendant's mental state at trial can require work. Normally, it will require the government to resort to circumstantial evidence and inference. After all, defendants in life do not confess their inner thoughts on the stand nearly as often as they do in courtroom dramas. But there is nothing new about any of that. See 4 Blackstone 21 (“no temporal tribunal can search the heart, or fathom the intentions of the mind, otherwise than as they are demonstrated by outward actions”). Nor is it any secret that the government has a long track record of success in proving mens rea the old- fashioned way by presenting circumstantial evidence and appealing to reasonable inferences.
This case illustrates how it can be—and regularly is— done. To persuade the jury that Ms. Diaz knew about the drugs, the government could point to the amounts involved— 54 pounds of drugs worth over $360,000. Ante, at 529. It could also point to the holes in her story. She claimed the car was her boyfriend's, but then said she had met him only “three times tops,” did not know his phone number, and did not know where he lived. ECF Doc. 33–1, at 13, 32. The government could point out, too, that when cell phones were found in the car, Ms. Diaz maintained one of them belonged to a friend, someone she would “rather not” identify. Id., at 34. As well, the government could highlight her statement that the phone was “locked” and she did not “have access to it.” Id., at 32–33. And the government could then ask a jury to infer from all these facts that Ms. Diaz knew exactly what she was doing. As it argues to us, the government was free to argue to a jury, asking it to conclude that Ms. Diaz's story was “transparently fimsy.” Brief in Opposition Page Proof Pending Publication 16. Day in and day out, the government secures convictions for the knowing importation of drugs in just this way. Tr. of Oral Arg. 84. There was no need to gild the lily by calling to the stand an “expert” in mindreading. And there is certainly no cause for this Court to sanction the practice. To the contrary, there are sound reasons why Rule 704(b) operates as it does. The problem of junk science in the courtroom is real and well documented. See Daubert v. Merrell Dow Pharmaceuticals, Inc., 509 U. S. 579, 589–590 (1993); Kumho Tire Co. v. Carmichael, 526 U. S. 137, 147 (1999); see also P. Huber, Galileo's Revenge: Junk Science in the Courtroom 15–17 (1991). And perhaps no “science” is more junky than mental telepathy. After Hinckley's trial, Congress recognized as much when it adopted Rule 704(b) to remove from federal courtrooms experts who claim to know what was inside a man's head at a particular moment in the past when he committed a particular act.
The particular nook of the criminal law we fnd ourselves in today illustrates the soundness of Congress's approach. Not long ago, the government tried—often successfully—to put “experts” (really, like Agent Flood, its own law enforcement agents) on the stand to testify that all couriers know when they are carrying drugs. See, e. g., United States v. Flores, 510 Fed. Appx. 594, 595 (CA9 2013). Not only was that testimony improper under the government's own current understanding of Rule 704(b). See Part II, supra; ante, at 535–536. Eventually, the government felt it had to backtrack after being confronted with too much evidence that some couriers simply have no idea they are being used to carry drugs. Flores, 510 Fed. Appx., at 595. So now, the government puts on witnesses to say most couriers know. We cannot be certain how many individuals sit in federal prison because of the government's past impermissible and mistaken “expert” testimony that all couriers know when they are carrying drugs. About the only thing we can be sure of is that what is good for the goose is good for the gander and Page Proof Pending Publication Page Proof Pending Publication that, thanks to the Court's opinion today, defendants will now recruit their own warring experts. Ones who will seek to testify (not unlike Agent Flood) that, in their experience, “most” drug couriers are kept in the dark by cartels.
None of this serves our criminal justice system well. A criminal conviction is “the gravest” condemnation we as a society “permit ourselves to make.” Wechsler 528. Allowing into our proceedings speculative guesswork about a defendant's state of mind diminishes the seriousness due them. It risks the reliability of the outcomes they produce (just ask those convicted in cases where government experts opined that “all” couriers know). It undermines our historic commitment that mens rea is a necessary component of every serious crime by turning the inquiry into a defendant's mental state from an exacting one guided by hard facts and reasonable inferences into a competing game of “I say so.” It diminishes our respect for the presumptively free person, his free will and individuality, by encouraging the lazy assumption that he thinks like “most.” And it reduces the vital role juries are meant to play in criminal trials. Yes, they can still decide whether the defendant thinks like “most” people. Ante, at 535. But that role hardly matches Rule 704(b)'s promise that “matters” of mens rea at trial belong to the jury “alone.”
V
In describing what I see as some of the possible consequences of the government's approach adopted by the Court today, I do not mean to suggest they are inevitable. Today's decision may go a long way toward hollowing out Rule 704(b). But it does not address what any other Rule of Evidence may have to say about cases like this one. And, looking briefy to some of those other Rules, I see reason for hope.
Take a few examples. Under Rule 402, any evidence presented at trial must be “[r]elevant,” meaning it must have a “tendency to make . . . more or less probable” a “fact . . . of Page Proof Pending Publication consequence in determining the action.” Fed. Rules Evid. 401, 402. Yet, if the government is right that an expert opinion about the mental state of “most” people like the defendant is not “about” the defendant's mental state, it is hard to see how that opinion might be relevant. After all, the “fact of consequence” in cases like Ms. Diaz's is whether the defendant possessed the requisite mens rea. And it's hard to see how the government can have it both ways—asserting in one breath that opinions like Agent Flood's are not “about” whether the defendant possessed the requisite mental state to convict, while insisting in the next breath that those opinions are relevant to (or, one might say, “about”) the defendant's mental state.
Rule 403 stands as another bulwark. That Rule permits courts to “exclude relevant evidence” when its “probative value is substantially outweighed by a danger of . . . unfair prejudice.” Surely, in our system of justice—where we recognize that each individual is presumed innocent and distinctly endowed with free will and choice, where the individual is responsible for his culpable mental states but not those of others—testimony about what “most” people think bears minimal probative value when the question at issue is what this individual thinks. Nor can the kind of testimony offered here hold much probative value when juries, composed of the defendant's peers, are well suited to resolve questions of mens rea without “expert” assistance. Juries have managed that task for centuries and, as we have long recognized, they are “ftted for it by their natural intelligence and their practical knowledge of men and the ways of men.” Aetna Life Ins. Co. v. Ward, 140 U. S. 76, 88 (1891).
Meanwhile, the danger of unfair prejudice can run very high. It can be “diffcult for the individual to make his own case stand on its own merits in the minds of the juror[s]” when jurors are told by an expert “that birds of a feather are focked together.” Krulewitch v. United States, 336 U. S. 440, 454 (1949) (Jackson, J., concurring). As this Court has recognized, too, expert opinions about the defendant's “state of mind at the crucial moment” when committing a criminal act may “easily mislead” the jury into “thinking the opinions show more than they do.” Clark v. Arizona, 548 U. S. 735, 776 (2006). Even the government candidly admits Rule 403 challenges may be proper against such testimony. Brief for United States 30–31.
The risk of unfair prejudice can be exacerbated, too, where, as here, the professed expert “carries with [him] the imprimatur of the [g]overnment.” United States v. Young, 470 U. S. 1, 18 (1985). A witness like that “may induce the jury to trust [the witness's] judgment rather than its own view of the evidence.” Id., at 18–19; see also United States v. Scheffer, 523 U. S. 303, 314 (1998) (plurality opinion) (experts like these may attain an “aura of infallibility”). For precisely that reason, the government may be highly tempted to do as it did in this case and seek to throw in an “expert” on top of a seemingly strong circumstantial case—just to be sure. But none of that means the proffered testimony is likely to advance the promise of a fair trial.
Add to those Rules at least one more. As part of its “gatekeeping” functions, a federal court must ensure that any expert testimony it permits is reliable, grounded on widely accepted principles, and will “ `assist the trier of fact to understand the evidence.' ” Kumho Tire Co, 526 U. S., at 147 (quoting Fed. Rule Evid. 702(a) (1999)). I struggle to see how a witness claiming to offer an opinion about another person's (or class of persons') thoughts at a particular moment in the past can meet any of those standards. No one, at least outside the fortuneteller's den, can yet claim the power to conjure reliably another's past thoughts. Testimony like Agent Flood's may be dubiously circular, too. For each time a law enforcement agent takes the stand to say “most people know” and that helps the government secure another conviction, he himself is creating the very proof on Page Proof Pending Publication which a government expert may purport to rely in the next trial.
Nor does testimony like that help the jury understand “ `experience[s] confessedly foreign in kind to [its] own.' ” Kumho Tire Co., 526 U. S., at 149 (quoting L. Hand, Historical and Practical Considerations Regarding Expert Testimony, 15 Harv. L. Rev. 40, 54 (1901)). In a criminal trial, expert testimony about DNA testing or the chemical composition of illegal drugs may sometimes help a jury understand facts they do not encounter in daily life. But none of that holds true when it comes to the job of assessing whether a defendant's story about her state of mind is credible or (as the government puts it) “transparently fimsy.” Brief in Opposition 16. Jurors are more than up to performing that task, and they hardly need the help of some clairvoyant. * Persuaded that today's decision is mistaken, but hopeful that it will ultimately prove immaterial in practice, I respectfully dissent.
Page Proof Pending Publication Page Proof Pending Publication Reporter’s Note The attached opinion has been revised to refect the usual publication and citation style of the United States Reports. The revised pagination makes available the offcial United States Reports citation in advance of publication. The syllabus has been prepared by the Reporter of Decisions for the convenience of the reader and constitutes no part of the opinion of the Court. A list of counsel who argued or fled briefs in this case, and who were members of the bar of this Court at the time this case was argued, has been inserted following the syllabus. Other revisions may include adjustments to formatting, captions, citation form, and any errant punctuation. The following additional edits were made: None