Let me paint a portrait of a crime victim.
She’s seated alone and isolated in an interior office of a large academic building. A young man walks in, expresses bizarre thoughts, approaches suddenly, and threatens her with a knife. From her chair, our victim leaps up, grabs his wrist, and shoves him into a wall. She wrests the knife from his grip, screams, and pushes him into a hallway. She closes the outer door, retreats to her office, closes a second door, and calls security.
In a matter of moments, her life completely changed. She became a crime victim. Had she not courageously and successfully fought the suspect off, we might be talking about rape, homicide, or both. Think about that.
I thank her for the courage, actions, and assistance that helped us take a dangerous individual off the street. Last week, Chief Deputy Fowler called her “an amazing, strong woman.” I echo that. She was forced to set an example for all crime victims: when cornered, you may have to fight in the face of danger.
But now, I must apologize to her because the criminal justice system let her down.
We located, interviewed, and arrested the suspect for two felonies. We had him arraigned and brought to jail on $30,000 bail, but in less than 24 hours, he posted bail, was arrested again by Brighton Police for stalking, released on an appearance ticket, and back on the street.
That’s almost the bigger crime here. It’s perpetrated every day by our lawmakers in Albany.
Under our laws in New York State, judges and law enforcement lack the ability to detain a dangerous individual long enough to intervene, assess, and get them the mental health assistance they need.
Money should have no role in a person’s liberty or detention – whether they can afford it or not. Here is a dangerous man with the means to pay. He’s back, living among us with no true assessment of his mental state and no means to hold him accountable. His future is compromised, and it is the victim who is imprisoned, having to look over her shoulder, wondering if he will reappear.
Widely accepted, standardized tools exist to ensure impartiality in assessing a person’s dangerousness. Having a standard that allows a judge to detain a person long enough to determine if they’re dangerous is protocol everywhere in the country.
Except New York.
A dangerousness standard doesn’t just apply to the drive-by shooter pumping rounds into a house where a grandmother and her grandkids hide under a bed. It applies to the totality of a person’s circumstances; in this case, dangerousness is pretty apparent. A “timeout” detention would protect victims, ensure public safety, and place the defendant on a stable path.
How, under the guise of “social justice,” is it reasonable to release dangerous people without assessing them and getting them the help they need? How are the rights of the accused more important than those of a victim? When does one demonstrably dangerous person’s liberty outweigh the public interest? Compassionate justice isn’t just for defendants.
In law enforcement and psychology, patterns of concerning behavior are called “escalation.” In the wake of tragedy, lawmakers, the media, and the public always ask why police, parents, or educators didn’t see the signs and prevent violence.
Lawmakers can help prevent violence by establishing a dangerousness standard with “clean law” written so everyone understands their rights, protections, the criminal justice system, and consequences. It’s time for them to see the signs and do something about it.
They can take the lead of our victim at St. John Fisher University and act immediately.
-Monroe County Sheriff Todd K. Baxter