Full opinion text
Affirmed by published opinion. Judge NIEMEYER wrote the majority opinion, in which Judge AGEE joined. Judge GREGORY wrote a dissenting opinion. NIEMEYER, Circuit Judge: Alejandro Enrique Ramirez Umaha shot and killed two brothers, Ruben and Manuel Salinas, at point-blank range in a restaurant in Greensboro, North Carolina, because Umaha perceived that the brothers had insulted Umaha’s gang, Mara Salvatrucha, commonly known as MS-13. A jury convicted Umaha of all counts for which he was charged, including two counts charging him with murder in aid of racketeering, in violation of 18 U.S.C. § 1959(a)(1), and two counts charging him with committing murder while using a firearm during and in relation to a crime of violence, in violation of 18 U.S.C. § 924(c) and (j)(l). The convictions on those charges subjected Umaha to a maximum sentence of death. Following the verdict of conviction, the same jury returned a verdict that Umaha was death eligible on the four capital counts, as provided in 18 U.S.C. §§ 3591-3596. The jury found that two statutory aggravating factors applied: (1) that Umaha had created a grave risk of death to one or more persons in addition to each victim, and (2) that he had killed more than one person in a single criminal episode. Finally, in the sentence selection phase of trial, the jury imposed the death penalty, finding that four additional nonstatutory aggravating factors applied: (1) that Umaha had killed the two brothers to protect and maintain the reputation of MS-13 and to advance his position in that gang; (2) that Umaña had caused injury and loss to the brothers’ family and friends; (3) that Umaña had earlier intentionally committed several murders in Los Angeles; and (4) that Umaña posed a continuing and serious threat to the lives and safety of others, as evidenced by his lack of remorse, his allegiance to MS-13, his lack of rehabilitation, and his pattern of violence. The jury also found several mitigating factors. After weighing the aggravating and mitigating factors, the jury imposed the death penalty. On appeal, Umaña challenges every phase of the proceedings below. After carefully considering each of Umaña’s arguments, we reject them and affirm the convictions and sentence. I Umaña, who was born in El Salvador in the early 1980s, illegally entered the United States in 2004 to live in Los Angeles. At the time, he had been a member of the MS-13 gang for several years, having joined in 2001, while he lived in El Salvador. MS-13 was formed in Los Angeles in the 1980s by immigrants from Central America, predominantly El Salvador. To gain membership into MS-13, an individual must submit to a 13-second beating. The gang uses violence and extortion to gain and control territory, and for a member to build his reputation in MS-13, he has to be ready to attack rival gang members or anyone else who disrespects the gang. MS-13 punishes betrayal by putting the “green light” on the member, which constitutes an order that he be targeted for death. While Los Angeles continues to be the mecca of MS-13 activity, MS-13 has become a transnational organization, with groups, or “cliques,” across the United States, in Canada, and in Central America. Umaña’s activities in Los Angeles During the sentence selection phase of Umaña’s trial, the government introduced evidence implicating Umaña in several Los Angeles shootings: one on Fairfax Street on July 27, 2005, where two persons were shot and killed, and one in Lemon Grove Park on September 28, 2005, where a group of four persons were shot at and one was killed and two were injured. On the occasion of the Fairfax Street murders, Umaña was in the passenger seat of a car with several other MS-13 members. The car pulled up alongside two males walking down the street, and the two groups began flashing gang signs at one another. The two males on the street were graffiti artists, or “taggers,” and they made hand gestures that were perceived as challenging MS-13. Some or all of Umaña’s group exited the car to confront the taggers. There were conflicting accounts about what happened next. Umaña’s fellow MS-13 members claimed that Umaña shot the two taggers, but two civilian eye witnesses claimed that the driver of the car shot them. On the occasion of the Lemon Grove Park murder, two men approached a group of four who had just finished playing basketball and were sitting on bleachers in the park. Without a word, the two men took out guns and opened fire on the group. One of the four basketball players was killed, while two others were wounded. The fourth, Freddie Gonzalez, who was apparently the target of the attack, escaped uninjured. Several pieces of evidence linked Umaña to this murder. First, Gonzalez identified Umaña in a photo lineup and confirmed the identification in court, although he admitted to some uncertainty. Also, Umaña admitted to driving the shooters to the basketball court, although he denied being a shooter himself. Finally, ballistics matched the gun used in the Fairfax Street murders with the gun used in the Lemon Grove Park murder, and there was no evidence that anyone but Umaña was present at both crime scenes. Umaña’s New York activities Umaña left Los Angeles and, by the summer of 2007, was residing in New York. By this time, he had built up a substantial reputation within MS-13. One witness recalled that Umaña, who had taken on the moniker of “Wizard,” was treated by his fellow gang members like he was “big time.” In the fall of 2007, an MS-13 leader in New York directed Umaña to travel to Charlotte, North Carolina, as the Charlotte MS-13 cliques had been experiencing significant infighting. Because of his experience and exposure to gang life in Los Angeles, Umaña was ordered to “set them straight” in North Carolina. This was confirmed by a Charlotte-based MS-13 member who stated that it was expected that Umaña would “take control” because he knew “how to run a gang.” Umaña’s North Carolina activities When he arrived in North Carolina, Umaña convened a meeting, during which he instructed the MS-13 members as to how they should be extorting money, selling drugs, and stealing cars. He inspected the gang members’ guns; he emphasized to them the importance of respect; and he told them to merge the Charlotte cliques together. Over the course of the following months, Umaña conducted numerous meetings with MS-13 members in Charlotte. On December 8, 2007, Umaña was in Greensboro, North Carolina, having dinner with several fellow MS-13 members at Las Jarochitas, a Mexican food restaurant. Also at the restaurant were Ruben and Manuel Salinas, regulars at Las Jarochitas, who were eating and drinking with several other men. The Salmas brothers were not affiliated with any gang. Umaña and his associates were sitting near the jukebox, and they began selecting songs. This upset Manuel Salinas, who liked to listen to “corrida,” a type of Mexican country music, whenever he visited Las Jarochitas. As one witness reported, the two groups then began “arguing and kind of like pushing each other.” Perhaps fearing that the situation was getting out of hand, Manuel Salinas tried to calm things down by buying the MS-13 members a bucket of beers. The MS-13 members, however, rebuffed the peace offering, refusing to drink or even acknowledge the beers. A concerned waitress asked the MS-13 members to leave the restaurant. As they were filing out, the groups were “exchanging words,” and Ruben Salinas told the MS-13 members that he “wasn’t scared of them.” The gang members responded that Ruben Salinas should not “mess with them” because “they were from ... MS.” Ruben retorted that the gang was “fake to him.” All of the MS-13 members left the restaurant except for Umaña, who stayed behind. Upon realizing that Umaña was still in the restaurant, an MS-13 member named Spider came back inside. When the waitress tried to pull Umaña to the door, Spider grabbed her and told her not to touch him. It was at this point that Umaña pulled out his gun and pointed it at Ruben and Manuel, but he did not shoot right away. He held his gun sideways, while Manuel and Ruben stood motionless. No one said anything. After some time elapsed, perhaps as much as a minute, Umaña fired five shots at the brothers. Ruben received a gunshot wound to the chest, and Manuel was shot in the head. Both were pronounced dead at the scene of the crime. A third individual was shot in the shoulder and survived. Witnesses identified Umaña as the shooter, and Umaña does not contest that he pulled the trigger. Immediately after the murders, Umaña’s group contacted a fellow MS-13 member, who had been serving as a confidential informant, to help them get back to Charlotte that night. The informant met Umaña and the other gang members at an IHOP restaurant between Charlotte and Greensboro. Umaña switched cars and rode with the informant back to Charlotte. During the ride, he was cocking and uncocking his gun and discussing its bullets. Their first stop was a nightclub and nearby taco stand outside of Charlotte, where Umaña told the confidential informant to smell the gun, because it smelled like gunpowder from being fired. Umaña also told the informant that he was going to “pee on [his] hands” to get rid of the gunpowder. Several other MS-13 members had congregated at the taco restaurant. One MS-13 member later recounted Umaña’s explanation for why he had committed the murders“[Umaña] said they insulted the MS-13. And he was doing it not only because of him, because he was doing it because of us, too.” Of the third victim, Umaña lamented that he “didn’t kill that son of a bitch.” When asked about the prospect of being pulled over by the police with the murder weapon, he responded, as recorded on tape, that the officer would be on the wrong end of his gun, as “she is always close by.” Charlotte police arrested Umaña at an MS-13 member’s house on December 12, 2007. The police found the murder weapon in the sofa where Umaña was sitting. Umaña later told other MS-13 members that the police were “lucky” because he had been “trying to grab for his gun.” Procedural history While Umaña was being held in custody by North Carolina authorities, several Los Angeles police detectives interrogated him about the shootings that had occurred in Los Angeles. Umaña denied committing those murders, although he did admit to being present or nearby when they occurred. Two months later, a federal grand jury in Charlotte, in the Western District of North Carolina, indicted Umaña for the murders committed in Greensboro, which is in the Middle District of North Carolina. Umaña filed a motion to dismiss the indictment for improper venue, which the district court denied. He also requested a hearing pursuant to Atkins v. Virginia, 536 U.S. 304, 122 S.Ct. 2242, 153 L.Ed.2d 335 (2002), which forbids execution for mentally retarded defendants. The court granted the Atkins hearing and found that Umaña had failed to prove his disability by a preponderance of the evidence. While in prison awaiting trial, Umaña maintained contact with MS-13 members. He wrote lengthy letters expressing his continuing loyalty to the gang and his hatred for his enemies. His letters also gave orders to execute rivals and intimidate potential witnesses against him. While the letters were encoded, the FBI broke the code. The case proceeded to trial. On the first day of jury selection, U.S. Marshals frisked Umaña and discovered that he had tied a four-inch metal blade (in a paper sheath) to his penis. And when the confidential informant testified during trial, Umaña flashed MS-13 gang signs with his hands and, as the informant was leaving, said in Spanish, “[Y]our family’s going to pay you mother. — ■” This threat took place in front of the jury. The jury convicted Umaña on all counts. It found him guilty of conspiring to conduct, or to participate in the conduct of, the affairs of an enterprise affecting interstate commerce through a pattern of racketeering activity, in violation of 18 U.S.C. § 1962(d) (prohibiting RICO conspiracy). It found that this RICO conspiracy included the “willful, deliberate and premeditated murder” of the Salinas brothers, in violation of N.C. GemStat. § 14-17. The jury also found Umaña guilty of murdering the Salinas brothers in aid of racketeering, in violation of 18 U.S.C. § 1959(a)(1). Finally, the jury found Umaña guilty of using a firearm in relation to a crime of violence, resulting in the death of the Salinas brothers, in violation of 18 U.S.C. § 924(c) and (j)(1). The jury also found Umaña guilty of several lesser offenses not at issue here, including being an alien in possession of a firearm, robbery affecting interstate commerce, and witness tampering. The government sought the death penalty for the § 1959 and § 924 counts. Accordingly, the district court divided the trial into three phases — the first to determine guilt or innocence; the second to determine Umaña’s eligibility for the death penalty; and the third, if Umaña were found death eligible, to select between the death penalty and life imprisonment without the possibility of release. After finding Umaña guilty, the jury found him eligible for the death penalty under the Federal Death Penalty Act, 18 U.S.C. §§ 3591-3596. In addition to finding that, during the commission of the crimes, Umaña was of sufficient age and had a sufficiently culpable state of mind, it found that two statutory aggravating factors applied. First, it found that Umaña had created a grave risk of death to one or more persons in addition to each victim, and second, it found that he had killed more than one person in a single criminal episode. After the jury found Umaña eligible for the death penalty, the court proceeded to the sentence selection phase, during which the government put on evidence to prove four additional nonstatutory aggravating factors: (1) that Umaña had killed the Salinas brothers to protect and maintain the reputation of MS-13 and to advance his position therein; (2) that Umaña had caused injury and loss to the Salinas brothers’ family and friends; (3) that Umaña had intentionally committed several murders in Los Angeles; and (4) that Umaña posed a continuing and serious threat to the lives and safety of others, as evidenced by his lack of remorse, his allegiance to MS-13, his lack of rehabilitation, and his pattern of violence. The jury found the existence of all four aggravating factors unanimously and beyond a reasonable doubt. They also considered the evidence presented by Umaña in mitigation, which consisted primarily of (1) the effects that Umaña’s upbringing had on his culpability; (2) videos of his family and friends; and (3) testimony about safety precautions that would be in place should Umaña be sentenced to life imprisonment. All or some of the jury members found that Umaña had proved various mitigating factors by a preponderance of the evidence. In particular, they found that the murder occurred during an emotionally charged argument and that the murder occurred as a result of Umaña’s indoctrination into the ways and thinking of MS-13. After weighing the aggravating and mitigating circumstances, the jury sentenced Umaña to death. This appeal followed, raising numerous challenges, as discussed herein. II Umaña challenges first the venue of his trial in the Western District of North Carolina. He contends that “venue on the capital counts [Counts 22-25] was proper only in the Middle District of North Carolina [in Greensboro], where the killings occurred because ‘murder’ was the only essential ‘conduct’ element of the charged offenses (violations of 18 U.S.C. § 1959 and §§ 924(c) & (j)(1)),” and that venue was not proper in the Western District of North Carolina, where he was tried. He argues that committing murder “for the purpose of ... maintaining or increasing position in an enterprise engaged in racketeering activity,” as punished by § 1959, has only one conduct element — that of committing murder — and that the element of maintaining or increasing position in a racketeering enterprise is a mens rea element. He points out that under established venue jurisprudence, a mens rea element does not contribute to determining the locus delicti of the crime, i.e., where it was committed for venue purposes. See United States v. Jefferson, 674 F.3d 332, 366-68 & n. 46 (4th Cir. 2012); United States v. Oceanpro Indus., Ltd., 674 F.3d 323, 329 (4th Cir.2012). He further argues that venue was improper for the trial of the two § 924 counts because those counts depended on the two § 1959 counts. The government contends that venue in the Western District was proper because the murders were committed by Umaña in “connection to the ‘racketeering enterprise’ and RICO conspiracy,” which were “continuing offense[s] centered in Charlotte,” in the Western District. It argues that just as murder was an essential conduct element, so too was the racketeering activity with which the murders were necessarily connected, justifying venue in either the Western or Middle Districts. Both the Constitution and the statutes implementing it require that criminal trials be conducted where the crime was “committed.” See U.S. Const. art. III, § 2, cl. 3; U.S. Const. amend. VI; 18 U.S.C. §§ 3235-3237; Fed.R.Crim.P. 18. The place where a crime is committed— the locus delicti — “must be determined from the nature of the crime alleged and the location of the act or acts constituting it.” United States v. Rodriguez-Moreno, 526 U.S. 275, 279, 119 S.Ct. 1239, 143 L.Ed.2d 388 (1999) (quoting United States v. Cabrales, 524 U.S. 1, 6-7,118 S.Ct. 1772, 141 L.Ed.2d 1 (1998)). Thus, to determine venue, we must first “identify the conduct constituting the offense” and then “discern the location of the commission of the criminal acts.” Id. The location of the criminal acts is determinative. See Jefferson, 674 F.3d at 365; Oceanpro, 674 F.3d at 328; United States v. Bowens, 224 F.3d 302, 311 (4th Cir.2000). Of course, if the criminal conduct spans multiple districts, the crime may be tried in any district in which at least one conduct element was committed. See 18 U.S.C. § 3237(a); Rodriguez-Moreno, 526 U.S. at 281, 119 S.Ct. 1239. Counts 22 and 24 of the indictment charged Umaña with the murders of Ruben Salinas and his brother, Manuel Salinas, in aid of racketeering activity, in violation of 18 U.S.C. § 1959(a)(1), and venue for trial of those offenses lay where the essential conduct elements of the § 1959 offense were committed. In order to establish murder in aid of racketeering activity under § 1959, the government must show: (1) that there was an enterprise engaged in racketeering activity; (2) that the enterprise’s activities affected interstate commerce; (3) that the defendant committed murder; and (4) that the defendant, in committing murder, acted in response to payment or a promise of payment by the enterprise or “for the purpose of gaining entrance to or maintaining or increasing position. in an enterprise.” 18 U.S.C. § 1959(a)(1); see also United States v. Fiel, 35 F.3d 997, 1003 (4th Cir.1994). Umaña argues that the only conduct element of the § 1959 offense was the murder itself. He characterizes the language linking the murder to the racketeering enterprise—i.e., “for the purpose of ... maintaining or increasing position in an enterprise engaged in racketeering activity”—as merely descriptive of the crime’s requisite mens rea, which cannot determine where the crime was committed for venue purposes. See Oceanpro, 674 F.3d at 329. We decline to read that element so narrowly. We think that “for the purpose of ... maintaining or increasing position in an enterprise” defines a motive element that includes a requirement that the defendant have interacted with the enterprise with respect to his purpose of bolstering his position in that enterprise. Such activity could occur before commission of a violent crime covered by the statute—for example, if a mafia boss instructed a member to commit murder or else be cast out of the organization—or after commission of a violent crime—for example, if the member returned to mafia headquarters to boast about his exploits with a mind toward advancement. Two reasons underlie our interpretation. First, we think this reading avoids the illogical—and possibly unconstitutional—result that § 1959 would criminalize a murder committed with a secret intent to join a gang where the murderer has absolutely no prior connection with the gang itself. Congress made clear, when enacting § 1959, that the offense was aimed at eliminating violent crime “committed as an integral part of an organized crime operation.” S.Rep. No. 98-225, at 305 (1983), reprinted in 1984 U.S.C.C.A.N. 3182, 3485 (emphasis added). And a physical manifestation of purpose is necessary to ensure that the act is actually carried out to further the enterprise’s goals. Second, the statutory context suggests that the “for the purpose of’ prong requires a manifest quid pro quo between the member and the gang. The earlier, parallel portion of the statute criminalizes violent crime conducted “as consideration for the receipt of’ or “as consideration for a promise or agreement to pay ... anything of pecuniary value.” 18 U.S.C. § 1959(a). This portion of the statute clearly indicates that there must be a reciprocal arrangement between the enterprise and the individual, and we believe it sensible to read the “for the purpose of’ language similarly. At bottom, we hold that § 1959(a)(1) includes as an element an objective, physical act that links the defendant with the enterprise with respect to the underlying violent crime and that this element is a conduct element supporting venue. In this case, Umaña’s actions in Charlotte were sufficient to satisfy this conduct element. Umaña was sent to Charlotte with orders to shape .up the North Carolina cliques. Upon arriving in Charlotte, he instructed the local MS-13 members at length about weapons and ammunition. He passed around his own gun. He discussed maintaining respect. One witness, who was at the initial Charlotte meeting, testified that respect “was everything” to Umaña. And after killing the Salinas brothers for their failure to respect his gang, Umaña immediately returned to Charlotte, where he boasted to his fellow MS-13 members about the murders. He told them that he had killed the Salinas brothers because they had insulted MS-13 and that he had killed them for his fellow gang members. These objective manifestations of Umaña’s purpose to further his position in the enterprise were sufficient to support venue in the Western District of North Carolina for the § 1959 prosecution. In Counts 23 and 25, Umaña was charged and tried for violations of 18 U.S.C. § 924(c) and (j)(l). The indictment in those counts alleged that Umaña used a firearm “during and in relation to a crime of violence, that is: conspiracy to participate in a racketeering enterprise [18 U.S.C. § 1962] and murder in aid of racketeering [18 U.S.C. § 1959],” resulting in the unlawful killing of Ruben and Manuel Salinas. Venue for § 924(c) prosecutions is appropriate wherever the underlying crime of violence took place. Rodriguez-Moreno, 526 U.S. at 281, 119 S.Ct. 1239. Umaña does not dispute that venue was proper in the Western District of North Carolina for the underlying § 1962 prosecution and, as we are holding, venue was also appropriate there for the § 1959 prosecution. Thus, regardless of which predicate crime of violence the jury relied on, venue for the § 924(c) counts was appropriate in the Western District. Ill Umaña next contends that his convictions on Counts 22 and 24 for murder in aid of racketeering activity under 18 U.S.C. § 1959(a)(1) punished conduct that “is a quintessential, noneconomic, local activity that lies beyond Congress’s authority to regulate under the Commerce Clause,” much like the activity regulated in the Violence Against Women Act, which the Supreme Court struck down in United States v. Morrison, 529 U.S. 598, 120 S.Ct. 1740, 146 L.Ed.2d 658 (2000). Moreover, he asserts, requiring that the murder be committed to maintain or further one’s status in “a street gang fails to change its noneconomic nature.” And because his convictions on Counts 23 and 25 under § 924(c) were predicated on his § 1959 convictions, Umaña reasons that they too exceeded the government’s Commerce Clause authority. Accordingly, he argues that his convictions on Counts 22 through 25 must be reversed. Because Umaña failed to present this argument to the district court, we review it for plain error. See United States v. Forrest, 429 F.3d 73, 77 (4th Cir.2005) (conducting a plain error review of a Commerce Clause challenge that was not raised before the district court). Article I, § 8, of the U.S. Constitution authorizes Congress to make laws as necessary to regulate commerce among the States so long as it has a “ ‘rational basis’ ... for ... concluding” that the prohibited activities, “taken in the aggregate, substantially affect interstate commerce.” Gonzales v. Raich, 545 U.S. 1, 22, 125 S.Ct. 2195, 162 L.Ed.2d 1 (2005). Section 1959(a) punishes violent crimes, including murder, committed “for the purpose of ... maintaining or increasing position in an enterprise engaged in racketeering activity,” with the term “enterprise” defined to include “any partnership, corporation, association, or other legal entity ... which is engaged in, or the activities of which affect, interstate or foreign commerce.” 18 U.S.C. § 1959(a), (b)(2). The question therefore is whether Congress could rationally have concluded that intrastate acts of violence, such as murder, committed for the purpose of maintaining or increasing one’s status in an interstate racketeering enterprise, would substantially affect the interstate activities of that enterprise. We conclude that it could have. We find it wholly reasonable to believe that members of a criminal enterprise might engage in violence to solidify their status in the organization or rise in the ranks of its leadership, and that by doing so, they would enhance the power and reach of the racketeering enterprise itself. Indeed, the circumstances of the present case provide a convenient illustration. Because of Umafia’s substantial reputation in MS-13, which he seems to have built up partly through acts of violence in Los Angeles, MS-13 leadership — through international telephone calls — sent him from New York to North Carolina to instruct the cliques there on how more effectively to deal drugs, steal cars, and extort money. Congress could rationally have concluded that proscribing reputation-enhancing violence committed by members of a criminal enterprise would disrupt the interstate commerce that the enterprise itself engages in. Accord United States v. Crenshaw, 359 F.3d 977, 986 (8th Cir.2004) (upholding the constitutionality of § 1959 under the Commerce Clause, noting that “[i]t seems ... clear that criminal enterprises use violence or the threat of violence in connection with their commercial activities”); see also United States v. Nascimento, 491 F.3d 25, 43 (1st Cir.2007) (“Given the obvious ties between organized violence and racketeering activity — the former is a frequent concomitant of the latter — we defer to Congress’s rational judgment, as part of its effort to crack down on racketeering enterprises, to enact a statute that targeted organized violence”). Indeed, Congress reached just such a conclusion when it observed that murders, assaults, and other crimes proscribed by § 1959 constituted an “integral aspect of membership in an enterprise engaged in racketeering activity.” S.Rep. No. 98-225, at 304, reprinted in 1984 U.S.C.C.A.N. at 3483. Moreover, § 1959 includes a jurisdictional element that limits its reach to activities connected with enterprises “engaged in” or whose activities “affect” interstate commerce, thereby justifying its constitutionality under the Commerce Clause. 18 U.S.C. § 1959(a), (b)(2); see also United States v. Gibert, 677 F.3d 613, 624 (4th Cir.2012). This jurisdictional element distinguishes § 1959 from the Violence Against Women Act struck down in Morrison. 529 U.S. at 613, 120 S.Ct. 1740. In Morrison, the Supreme Court explicitly noted the lack of a limiting jurisdictional element that would have confined the statute to those activities actually affecting interstate commerce. Id. (noting that the Gun-Free School Zones Act, which was struck down in United States v. Lopez, 514 U.S. 549, 115 S.Ct. 1624, 131 L.Ed.2d 626 (1995), and the Violence Against Women Act at issue in Morrison “contain[ed] no jurisdictional element establishing that the federal cause of action is in pursuance of Congress’ power to regulate interstate commerce”). But § 1959 does have a limiting jurisdictional element that confines its reach to crimes that affect interstate commerce. Umafia argues further that the application of § 1959 to his particular circumstances is unconstitutional because “the murder here had no effect on interstate commerce, was non-commercial in nature, and was unrelated to organized interstate trafficking efforts in drugs or other contraband.” But such an argument is of no consequence to the Commerce Clause analysis, which does not focus on whether particular conduct under the statute had an impact on interstate commerce, but rather on whether “the class of acts proscribed had such an impact.” Gibert, 677 F.3d at 627; see also Raich, 545 U.S. at 17, 125 S.Ct. 2195 (“[W]hen a general regulatory statute bears a substantial relation to commerce, the de minimis character of individual instances arising under that statute is of no consequence” (quoting Lopez, 514 U.S. at 558, 115 S.Ct. 1624) (internal quotation marks omitted)); United States v. Gould, 568 F.3d 459, 475. (4th Cir.2009); United States v. Williams, 342 F.3d 350, 355 (4th Cir.2003). Accordingly, we find no error, let alone plain error, and therefore we reject Umafia’s Commerce Clause challenge. IV Umaña contends that the district court abused its discretion in refusing to excuse Jurors 286 and 119 on account of their personal bias. He argues that Juror 286 was biased based on a past life experience with respect to a crime committed against her brother and that Juror 119 was biased as indicated by the answers she gave about whether she could meaningfully consider life imprisonment, in lieu of death, upon a finding of guilt on the charges in this case. We review the district court’s decisions to seat these jurors for abuse of discretion, Poynter v. Ratcliff, 874 F.2d 219, 222 (4th Cir.1989), and we will find abuse only “where a per se rule of disqualification applies” or “where the [trial] court ‘demonstrate^] a clear disregard for the actual bias’ of the juror,” United States v. Fulks, 454 F.3d 410, 432 (4th Cir.2006) (quoting United States v. Turner, 389 F.3d 111, 115 (4th Cir.2004)). A Juror 286 recounted during voir dire that more than 30 years earlier, her brother had been the victim of an attempted murder; that the assailant received a short sentence; and that, after release, the assailant committed murder and then suicide. Based on this life experience and on Juror 286’s answers during voir dire, Umaña argues that the district court should have found that Juror 286 was actually biased or that, based solely on her life experience, she was in any event impliedly biased. During voir dire, the prosecutor asked Juror 286 several questions about her ability to dispense penalties impartially:' Q: And are you able to keep an open mind until you’ve heard the evidence to make [the decision between life in prison and the death penalty] together with the other jurors? A: I would like to think so. I mean, I don’t know anything about the case. Q: And that’s the point. But you haven’t heard the evidence, so are you able to keep an open mind and consider both options at the conclusion of the evidence? A: I think so. Q: And given the information that you shared about the tragedy with your brother ..., are you able to come into this courtroom and consider only the facts and evidence that are presented in this case in making your decision? A: I hope that I can. I mean, I can’t forget those ... experiences that I’ve had.... I would hope, and I think that I would look at the facts of this case. Q: All right. And so as you sit here today ... until you’ve heard all the facts in evidence in this case, you would be able to fairly consider both potential punishments; life imprisonment without parole and the death penalty? A: Yes. Umaña’s counsel followed up on Juror 286’s answers with the following inquiry: Q: Does [your frustration with how your brother’s case was handled] come into play now, if you’re a juror in a case like this, that involves two charges of murder? A: I don’t know if it would or not, to be honest. I do have strong feelings about it. You know, the sentence — ■ the sentence to me did not — it was not justified, based on the circumstances and what happened. And that person, because he didn’t have a sufficient sentence, I think, initially, went on to do additional murder and suicide. And yeah, I do have a problem getting past that. Then, after Umaña’s counsel explained to Juror 286 that, upon a finding of guilt for murder, there would be only “two options on the table” — life without the possibility of release and death — he questioned her as follows: Q: Knowing that, does your attitude about your frustration with the judicial system and the sentence that that assailant of your brother’s got, how — can you tell us whether that would be an issue or affect you? A: I think it’s a bit different than the situation with my brother. Because in that instance I just didn’t think that there was sufficient punishment that fit the crime. In this case you’re looking at the death penalty, or as you’re telling me, someone who would be in prison the rest of their life. It’s different, and I hope that I would see that. Q: Are you saying then, that ... you would consider equally, or give fair consideration to both types of sentences? In other words, that you would think that either death or life without parole would be considered as sufficient sentences for those crimes? A: I think depending on the circumstances and the evidence. Q: ... [W]ould you meaningfully consider both of these sentencing options in the sentencing phase of this trial? A: Yes. Yes. Q: [D]o you think that the experience with what happened to your brother’s attacker and everything, would have any impact on your ability to be a fair judge on the facts, as far as ... guilty versus not guilty? A: ... I would hope it would not enter into my decision, but I still have that experience. Q: ... [T]he defendant has the right, as does the government, to have a jury of people who are fair and impartial and open-minded. And I guess, do you feel that you are one of those people right for this case? A: I don’t know if I can say 100 percent. I really don’t. At that point, the district judge intervened to describe to Juror 286 the presumption of innocence and to explain that the government bears the burden of proof. The judge then asked the following questions: Q: Now, is there anything about your life experience that keeps you from understanding those principles and agreeing to apply them in this case? A: I understand the principles entirely. And I hope that I could, you know, ... do the job that’s requested. I just ... have these things in my experience that I don’t know whether they would prevent me from doing the job correctly or not. Q: Do you agree with those principles? A: Yes, I do. Q: And is there anything about your past experience that would prevent you from meaningfully participating in that process [of determining the penalty options]? A: No, I don’t think so. The judge then declined to excuse Juror 286. Based on Juror 286’s answers, Umaña argues that Juror 286 displayed actual bias because she “remained equivocal regarding whether the circumstances surrounding the attempt on her brother’s life would affect her ability to keep an open mind and be a fair and impartial juror during the guilt/innocence phase.” Thus, he contends that there remained uncertainty after voir dire “about whether she could actually apply [the presumption of innocence and proof beyond a reasonable doubt] in light of her past experiences.” He suggests that United States v. Thompson, 744 F.2d 1065 (4th Cir.1984), required a finding that Juror 286 was actually biased. In Thompson, one of the jurors notified the judge during trial that a piece of evidence had “moved [him] quite heavily.” 744 F.2d at 1067. When the judge told the juror that he wanted to make sure that the juror still had an open mind, the juror responded, “I don’t think that I do. ... I am not sure that I could be totally fair. I would try to be as much as I could, but I am just not sure I could be totally fair.” Id. (emphasis added). After denying a motion for a mistrial, the judge asked the juror if he could keep an open mind and maintain the presumption of innocence, and the juror responded, “I will try. I am not sure, your Honor.” Id. at 1067-68. We found that the trial court had abused its discretion by declining to excuse the juror, and we held that “after [the juror] gave an equivocal response to repeated questions about his ability to proceed with an open mind ... the trial court should have asked for an affirmative response.” Id. The circumstances in Thompson, however, were different in kind and effect from those here. In Thompson, the juror had suggested that he was unable to be fair. When asked whether he had an open mind, the juror said, “I don’t think that I do.” By contrast, Juror 286 left the court with the opposite message, suggesting that she “would like to think” that she could keep an open mind. Moreover, when the judge asked Juror 286 whether she agreed with the basic constitutional principles relating to the presumption of innocence and the government’s burden of proof, she said that she did. She also told the judge that her past experiences would not prevent her from “meaningfully participating in [the sentencing] process.” To be sure, Juror 286 stated that she could not be 100% sure about how she would conduct herself, but nonetheless she repeatedly stated that she thought she could keep an open mind and “look at the facts of this case.” We similarly distinguished Thompson in United States v. Hager, 721 F.3d 167 (4th Cir.2013), where a juror expressed some equivocation about whether he could be impartial. In Hager, the judge interrogated the juror at length, asking, for example, whether the juror could “give effect to those two instructions [regarding the presumption of innocence and burden of proof],” and the juror answered, as did Juror 286 in this case, “Yes, I would try.” 721 F.3d at 190-91. The court followed up this inquiry by asking, “[I]s there any reason why you wouldn’t succeed?” to which the juror responded, “No, I wouldn’t think [so].” Id. at 191. The Hager court found that the judge had not abused his discretion by seating the juror, distinguishing the circumstances from Thompson in this way: Although Juror 144 and the juror in Thompson both initially stated only that they would try to be fair, the district court here followed up by asking if there was any reason that the juror could not be fair. And each time that question was posed, Juror 144 said that there was not. The district court in Thompson, however, failed to solicit such a response. Id. at 192; see also United States v. Capers, 61 F.3d 1100, 1104-05 (4th Cir.1995) (finding no abuse of discretion where a trial judge refused to excuse a juror who stated that he “might favor the government”). We conclude that the district judge in the present case did not abuse his discretion by declining to find that Juror 286 was actually biased. A juror need not express unflinching certainty for a trial judge to determine that she will be able to remain impartial. See, e.g., Hager, 721 F.3d at 191-92. Moreover, in this case, the judge took care by repeatedly asking, in followup questions, whether Juror 286 could be fair and impartial. Juror 286 affirmed without qualification that she agreed with the principles that defendants are presumed innocent and that the government has the burden of proof, and she repeatedly affirmed that she would be able to consider equally the two penalty options of life in prison and the death sentence. Umaña argues further that despite the answers given by Juror 286, her life experiences alone should have prompted the trial court to conclude that she was impliedly biased. “[T]he doctrine of implied bias is limited in application to those extreme situations where the relationship between a prospective juror and some aspect of the litigation is such that it is highly unlikely that the average person could remain impartial in his deliberations under the circumstances.” Person v. Miller, 854 F.2d 656, 664 (4th Cir.1988). Implied bias might arise where there is “a revelation that the juror is an actual employee of the prosecuting agency, that the juror is a close relative of one of the participants in the trial or the criminal transaction, or that the juror was a witness or somehow involved in the criminal transaction.” Smith v. Phillips, 455 U.S. 209, 222, 102 S.Ct. 940, 71 L.Ed.2d 78 (1982) (O’Connor, J., concurring). We conclude that Juror 286’s experience 30 years ago was sufficiently remote and insufficiently prejudicial to impute bias to her. We have held that “it is generally within a trial court’s discretion to qualify a juror whose close relative was a victim of a crime similar to that with which a defendant is charged, [and so] such a circumstance is not, standing alone, sufficiently ‘extreme’ to warrant a finding of implied bias.” Fulks, 454 F.3d at 432-33 (citation omitted). Likewise here, we conclude that it was within the district court’s discretion to qualify Juror 286. Umaña also argues that the views Juror 286 expressed about law enforcement evidenced actual bias, as indicated by the following exchange during voir dire: Q: [A]re you going to treat civilians and law enforcement, you’re going to be able to evaluate their testimony and weigh it equally? A: Um, I think so. But in all honesty, I do have to say that I do have a positive feeling towards them, police officers, detectives and so forth. Q: [S]o you would be able to judge fairly the testimony of a police officer, the same way you would a civilian witness in this case? A: I have to answer again in all honesty that I hope that I would be able to. But also as I say, I do support and see law enforcement in a favorable light. Q: [Wjould you follow that same instruction and use the same standard in evaluating the credibility of each type of witness? A: I think so. I’ve never done it before, as I say. I just have to say that I would hope and I would think that I would. Based on these answers, Umaña contends that “Juror 286 was equivocal about whether her beliefs about law enforcement would interfere with her duty to treat all witnesses equally.” Because Umaña did not, during voir dire, object to Juror 286 on this ground, we review this issue under the plain error standard. See Fed.R.Crim.P. 52(b); United States v. Olano, 507 U.S. 725, 732-34, 113 S.Ct. 1770, 123 L.Ed.2d 508 (1993). Although “bias in favor of law enforcement officials [i]s inappropriate,” United States v. Lancaster, 96 F.3d 734, 743 (4th Cir.1996) (en banc), we conclude that the district court did not err in failing to find actual bias based on Juror 286’s statement that she had “positive feelings” about law enforcement, especially where she went on to affirm (albeit in her cautious fashion) that she would use the same standard in evaluating every witness’s credibility. See Capers, 61 F.3d at 1105 (no abuse of discretion where juror said he “might” favor the government). A juror’s generally favorable impression of law enforcement does not necessarily amount to bias any more than does a juror’s personal association with law enforcement. See United States v. LaRouche, 896 F.2d 815, 830 (4th Cir.1990). Based on our review of the record, we conclude that the district court’s ruling was not in error. B Umaña contends that Juror 119 was also biased insofar as she did not confirm during voir dire that she would “meaningfully consider life imprisonment upon a finding of guilt of the charged offenses.” On Juror 119’s questionnaire, she gave seemingly contradictory answers with respect to whether she would consider life in prison for an individual convicted of racketeering offenses. But she explained at voir dire that she had been confused by the wording of the question. More importantly, she expressed unhesitatingly that she would consider both life in prison and the death sentence: Q: [T]he question I have for you is whether you would consider those both — those two options? A: Oh, yes. Q: Or automatically choose one over the both? A: No. No. Q: You would consider both? A: I would consider both. Later in voir dire, Juror 119 did say that she would “lean heavily towards the death penalty for ... intentional killing.” When the district judge followed up on this statement, Juror 119 initially expressed some equivocation, stating that she was “not sure” whether she could keep an open mind about the sentencing options. The judge continued to probe Juror 119: Q: Let me ask you this question: I’m not asking you to tell me what your decision will be. What I’m asking you is, are you willing in good faith, to go through the process of considering and weigh both options? A: Yes. Q: As part of that, would you be willing to consider and weigh the aggravating factors presented by the government and the mitigating factors presented by the defendant? A: Yes. Q: Would you be able to follow the Court’s instructions on those points? A: Yes. I would have to. The judge concluded that Juror 119 “could in good faith weigh both options.” We conclude that the judge did not abuse his discretion. In making his judgment, he followed the instructions from Hager precisely, following up with a series of shorter, simpler questions when the juror manifested some initial equivocation. The juror answered these questions unambiguously, making clear that she was not “irrevocably committed to imposing the death penalty.” United States v. Caro, 597 F.3d 608, 615 (4th Cir.2010). As we have previously noted, a juror’s mind need not be a blank slate. See United States v. Jones, 716 F.3d 851, 857 (4th Cir.2013) (“Because jurors will have opinions from their life experiences, it would be impractical for the Sixth Amendment to require that each juror’s mind be a tabula rasa”). “[I]f a district court views juror assurances of continued impartiality to be credible, the court may rely upon such assurances in deciding whether a defendant has satisfied the burden of proving actual prejudice.” Id. (quoting United States v. Corrado, 304 F.3d 593, 603 (6th Cir.2002)). The judge in the present case acted within his discretion in crediting Juror 119’s assurances that she could follow the law and consider all sentencing options. V During the third phase of trial — the sentence selection phase, during which the jury decided whether to impose life imprisonment without the possibility of release or the death penalty — the government sought to prove that Umaña had committed several murders in Los Angeles in 2005. To that end, it introduced into evidence the transcript of an interrogation of Umaña, conducted by Los Angeles police detectives while he was in state custody in North Carolina. During the interrogation, Umaña placed himself at the two scenes of the Los Angeles murders, although he denied actually committing the murders. Even so, the evidence helped the government implicate Umaña in the murders because no evidence indicated that anyone but Umaña was present at the two locations, and the same gun was used to commit all of the murders. Challenging the introduction of the transcript, Umaña contends that the statements he made during the interview were obtained in violation of his Miranda rights and, in any event, were given involuntarily, in violation of the Fifth Amendment. He bases his argument on the fact that during the interview, the Los Angeles detectives repeatedly told him that his statements would not “affect” the North Carolina case and that his statements would not “cost” him anything, when in fact they were used against him in this case. As to his Miranda claim, the record shows that after the Los Angeles detectives read Umaña a Miranda warning in Spanish, they followed up with questions to ensure that he understood, again speaking to him in Spanish: Detective: Do you understand what I’m saying? Umaña: Yes. Detective: Do you want to talk about, uh, what we want to talk about here of things that happened in Los Angeles ... freely? Umaña: I already told you, let’s see about it. Detective: Okay. Umaña: Yes. Detective: Yes? Okay.... Umaña: You will be explaining more things. The detective who conducted this interview later testified that he thought that Umaña understood his right to remain silent and intended to waive that right. The district court found the officer to be credible and that Umaña’s response of ‘Tes,” plus his subsequent willingness to answer questions, indicated that he did indeed intend to waive his Miranda rights and speak with the detectives. We agree. “To effectuate a waiver of one’s Miranda rights, a suspect need not utter any particular words.” Burket v. Angelone, 208 F.3d 172, 198 (4th Cir.2000). A suspect impliedly waives his Miranda rights when he acknowledges that he understands the Miranda warning and then subsequently is willing to answer questions. See United States v. Frankson, 83 F.3d 79, 82 (4th Cir.1996). That is precisely what happened in this case. Umaña contends that, in any event, his statements were extracted involuntarily, in violation of his Fifth Amendment rights, because the Los Angeles detectives said that Umaña’s statements would not “cost” him anything or “affect” him. He identifies 10 such comments that occurred over the course of a two-and-one-half hour interview. For example, when asking about the Fairfax Street murders, one detective stated: “Why don’t we go ahead and clear up everything in the past that you’ve done in Los Angeles. It doesn’t cost you anything.” And, referring to the North Carolina investigation, a detective stated: ‘We don’t ... want to affect the case here at all.” To determine whether a statement or confession was obtained involuntarily, in violation of the Fifth Amendment, “[t]he proper inquiry ‘is whether the defendant’s will has been overborne or his capacity for self-determination critically impaired.’ ” United States v. Braxton, 112 F.3d 777, 780 (4th Cir.1997) (en banc) (quoting United States v. Pelton, 835 F.2d 1067, 1071 (4th Cir.1987) (internal quotation marks omitted)). To make this determination, we consider “the totality of the circumstances, including the characteristics of the defendant, the setting of the interview, and the details of the interrogation.” Pelton, 835 F.2d at 1071. We have consistently declined to hold categorically that a suspect’s statements are involuntary simply because police deceptively highlight the positive aspects of confession. For example, in United States v. Whitfield, 695 F.3d 288 (4th Cir.2012), we refused to find a confession involuntary where the police officers told the suspect that by talking to them he “would do ‘nothing but help[ ] [himself].’ ” Id. at 303 n. 8 (alterations in original). Similarly, in Rose v. Lee, 252 F.3d 676 (4th Cir.2001), we held that “the cryptic promise that ‘things would go easier’ on [the suspect] if he confessed [did not] amountf ] to unconstitutional coercion.” Id. at 686; see also United States v. Rutledge, 900 F.2d 1127, 1128, 1131 (7th Cir. 1990) (finding that the statement “all cooperation is helpful” was the sort of “minor fraud that the cases allow” and did not make subsequent statements involuntary). “The mere existence of threats, violence, implied promises, improper influence, or other coercive police activity ... does not automatically render a confession involuntary.” Braxton, 112 F.3d at 780. Eather, we must look at the totality of the circumstances to see if Umaña was not acting of his own volition. Considering the entirety of the interrogation, we conclude that Umafia’s statements were made voluntarily. While the detectives’ statements may have been misleading, they never amounted to an outright promise that nothing Umaña said would ever be used against him. Eather, they were akin to the cryptic encouragement we allowed in Whitfield and Rose. See also Illinois v. Perkins, 496 U.S. 292, 297, 110 S.Ct. 2394, 110 L.Ed.2d 243 (1990) (“Ploys to mislead a suspect or lull him into a false sense of security that do not rise to the level of compulsion or coercion to speak are not within Miranda’s concerns”). Moreover, Umafia’s statements and behavior during the interrogation belie any notion that he thought his statements could not be used against him. When the detectives were pushing him to confess to the Fairfax Street murders, he observed that “later on you’re going to come to me with another case,” obviously indicating that he knew his words could be used against him. And despite the detectives’ suggestions that confessing would not “cost” him anything, Umaña never did so. His most significant “confessions” were to admit to being in the car during the Fair-fax Street murders and dropping off the shooters in Lemon Grove Park. But he never admitted to committing any of the murders. To the contrary, throughout the interrogation, Umaña’s statements were evasive and misleading. For example, when an officer asked, “[W]ho fired at the two dead persons?,” Umaña first responded, “I don’t know that,” and then, “Look ... perhaps my hands, perhaps someone else’s hands, perhaps Negro’s hands, perhaps Chipie’s hands.” At one point, he began rapping an MS-13 song to deflect the focus of the interview. Umaña had experience in prior police interrogations, and in this case he was given a Miranda warning and acknowledged that he understood it. We have little doubt that Umaña knew what he was doing as he played a cat-and-mouse game with detectives. At bottom, we conclude that there simply was no evidence that Umaña thought his statements would not be used against him, and we decline to conclude that any violation of his Fifth Amendment rights against self-incrimination occurred. VI During the sentence selection phase of trial — again in connection with the Los Angeles murders — the district court allowed the government to introduce hearsay statements of MS-13 members accusing Umaña of committing the murders. Specifically, the court allowed detectives to testify at trial about their interviews with Luis Eamos, Luis Eivera, and Eene Arevalo. The court also allowed the government to introduce the transcripts of the interviews with Eivera and Arevalo. Umaña objected to the evidence on the grounds that it (1) violated his right to confrontation under the Sixth Amendment and (2) constituted unreliable hearsay. The district court overruled the objections, holding that the Confrontation Clause does not apply to the sentence selection phase of capital sentencing and that the hearsay statements bore sufficient indicia of reliability and trustworthiness to be admissible during sentencing. Umaña now contends that the district court erred on both counts. We address each, seriatim. A Umaña argues that “it is clear from the Sixth Amendment’s text and history, the Eighth Amendment, and the statutory requirements of the [Federal Death Penalty Act] that the right to confrontation applies throughout the sentencing phase of a federal death penalty case.” Recognizing that the Sixth Amendment has traditionally not been applied during sentencing, he argues that the death penalty is qualitatively different from other punishments and that application of the Confrontation Clause would enhance reliability in the determination that death is the appropriate punishment. Courts have long held that the right to confrontation does not apply at sentencing, even in capital cases. In Williams v. New York, 337 U.S. 241, 69 S.Ct. 1079, 93 L.Ed. 1337 (1949), a state judge imposed the death penalty on a defendant based on (1) the evidence presented to the jury at trial, (2) “additional information obtained through the court’s Probation Department,” and (3) information obtained “through other sources,” as authorized by state law. Id. at 242-43, 69 S.Ct. 1079 (internal quotation marks omitted). The defendant challenged the constitutionality of the sentence because it was “based upon information supplied by witnesses with whom the accused had not been confronted and as to whom he had no opportunity for cross-examination or rebuttal.” Id. at 243, 69 S.Ct. 1079 (quoting People v. Williams, 298 N.Y. 803, 804, 83 N.E.2d 698 (1949)). In rejecting the challenge, the Supreme Court noted that in modern sentencing, which seeks a punishment that fits the offender, not just the crime, the sentencing judge should be able to consider “the fullest information possible concerning the defendant’s life and characteristics.” Id. at 247, 69 S.Ct. 1079. If that information were “restricted to that given in open court by witnesses subject to cross-examination,” it would become “unavailable.” Id. at 250, 69 S.Ct. 1079. The Court explained that “the type and extent of this information [necessary to the ‘practice of individualizing punishments’] make totally impractical if not impossible open court testimony with cross-examination.” Id. The Court also explained that sentencing is a highly discretionary function, which is distinct from finding guilt, where due process requires that the factfinder be “hedged in by strict evidentiary procedural limitations.” Id. at 246, 69 S.Ct. 1079. The Williams Court indicated that the standard is no different for capital cases, stating, “We cannot accept the contention” that “we should draw a constitutional distinction as to the procedure for obtaining information where the death sentence is imposed.” Id. at 251, 69 S.Ct. 1079. We conclude that Williams squarely disposes of Umaña’s argument that the Sixth Amendment should apply to capital sentencing. Umaña maintains nonetheless that intervening case law has eroded Williams, which he characterizes as containing “analysis of a bygone era of untrammeled judicial discretion.” But he provides no authority suggesting that Williams has been overruled. To the contrary, Williams remains good law. The Supreme Court recently affirmed its viability in Alleyne v. United States, — U.S. -, 133 S.Ct. 2151, 186 L.Ed.2d 314 (2013), in which the Court recited Williams’ holding that “the Sixth Amendment does not govern” “fact-finding used to guide judicial discretion in selecting a punishment ‘within limits fixed by law.’ ” Id. at 2161 n. 2 (quoting Williams, 337 U.S. at 246, 69 S.Ct. 1079). And we recently held in United States v. Powell, 650 F.3d 388 (4th Cir.2011), that “a sentencing court [may] consider ‘any relevant information before it, including uncorroborated hearsay, provided that the information has sufficient indicia of reliability to support its accuracy.’ ” Id. at 392 (quoting United States v. Wilkinson, 590 F.3d 259, 269 (4th Cir.2010)). Indeed, in Poivell, we specifically rejected the claim Umaña now makes that intervening case law undermined Williams, holding that “[r]e-cent Confrontation Clause decisions do not require us to reconsider this settled distinction between trial evidence and sentencing evidence in the hearsay context.” Id. Moreover, Umafia’s suggestion that evidence at sentencing be restricted by th