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A familiar arc for a reformer

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The firestorm over Hennepin County Attorney Mary Moriarty’s choices is another example of how criminal justice reforms, once implemented, can suddenly feel different to even those who supported, in the abstract, a political campaign, the promise of change.

This is hardly new. For more than half a century, reform efforts have met fierce institutional and public resistance, most recently in San Francisco, St. Louis, and Philadelphia.

What’s different in Minnesota is that two top DFLers, Gov. Tim Walz and Attorney General Keith Ellison, have jumped into the middle of a rippled debate and are seen as siding with opponents of the reforms. Yes, they belong to the party of Hubert Humphrey, who led state and national efforts in the 1940s to address racial inequality and police misconduct, the very issues Moriarty has tirelessly raised throughout her legal career.

During her 2022 election campaign, Moriarty focused on juvenile justice and police reform while convincingly defeating a prominent, more conservative judge. Moriarty’s campaign message was certainly heard by voters, who seemed to agree that the time was right for change given the lingering fears over the killing of George Floyd and the sweeping investigations that resulted in state and federal consent decrees that the Minneapolis police would finally get serious. about good police work and permeating the culture of racism.

But soon after taking office, Moriarty began to feel resistance for doing what he promised: his commitment to placing offenders in care that would better ensure productive lives. Reformers broadly agree and data show that punishing biologically immature children with years in adult prisons usually produces hardened criminals who, upon release, enter a life of repeating crimes and returning to prison.

And it didn’t take long for a public firestorm to erupt when Moriarty said reparative therapy would be best for a 15-year-old charged with murder after a botched carjacking. The victim’s family pleaded for leniency, appealing to a public ingrained in the idea that justice for violent crimes means prison time. The boy later pleaded guilty to a lesser charge. (His 17-year-old partner previously pleaded guilty to murder, saying he fired the fatal shots.)

A year ago, another debate erupted when Moriarty tried to rehabilitate another 15-year-old, one of two involved in the murder-for-hire of a young mother. The public uproar was too much for Ellison, who won Walz’s approval to take over Moriarty’s case, despite her objection.

Of course, governors are expected to discipline their political appointees who incite the electorate. But taking a case away from a locally elected prosecutor was a patronizing misgiving by Walz and Ellison that will surely plague Moriarty’s push for reform.

It is worth recalling that the US has the highest incarceration rate in the world, including an extraordinary number who spend weeks and months in prison, putting their lives on hold before they are even tried. In 2022, it cost an average of as much as $43,000 to house each federal inmate.

Even worse are the enormous social costs of giving in to the primitive idea of ​​“throw them in the dungeon,” which often condemns young people to a lifelong cycle of crime and prison.

Moriarty’s office says it seeks appropriate justice by thoroughly evaluating each perpetrator to determine the best alternatives for life improvement. Often the perpetrators are themselves damaged victims of an impoverished life and parental abuse.

“Do the crime, do the time” was a petty aphorism uttered not long ago in support of new laws sentencing young people to long prison terms for very minor crimes, such as possession of small amounts of marijuana. It filled prisons, ruined lives and made crime worse, giving the “do the time” crowd fodder to stoke fear of crime and perpetuate a cruel cycle that belies civil society.

And now, as was inevitable, comes a case that will make justice reform in “progressive” Minnesota even more challenging.

In January, after a lengthy investigation, Moriarty charged a state trooper with murder after he fatally shot a black motorist who sped away during a traffic stop.

Moriarty’s cabal of critics again demanded that Walz remove her from the case “in the interest of justice,” one said. This time, the critics were joined by four Republican and two DFL congressmen, some of whom called for Moriarty’s resignation.

But the trooper case clearly belongs in the legal system, separate from opportunistic politicians. A criminal charge has been filed and the evidence will be examined in open court before a judge and jury; it’s the process.

This time, Walz hesitated, saying he shared their concerns, which is like dangling raw meat over a growling wolf pack and contemplating the noise. (A few days ago, Walz made even more noise by playing lawyer and questioning the Hennepin County Board’s support of Moriarty’s use of outside counsel in the case.)

The Minnesota Police and Peace Officers Association says “justice” demands Walz intervenes. But that group’s sense of justice was on display as they protested a new state rule to revoke the licenses of police officers involved with extremist hate groups.

Walz unnecessarily stirred things up by making prosecution by the province a current political issue. For his part, Ellison said he doesn’t expect Moriarty to be removed from a case again. Fine.

But we’ll see.

Ron Way lives in Minneapolis. He sat [email protected]. The Star Tribune editorial board argued in March (‘Credibility in trial in trooper case’) that Walz should continue to monitor Moriarty’s handling of that case.