Justice Served Cold: Because Who Needs Fairness Anyway?

Last week, Robert Robertson, a Texas man on death row for more than twenty years due to a shaken baby hypothesis, saw his execution halted. The very basis of his conviction – a show of psychopathic tendencies like lack of remorse over his daughter’s crippling condition – failed to count one key ingredient: Robertson was officially diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder. It is without saying that people diagnosed with ASD are seven times more likely to encounter the criminal justice system than neurotypicals. It is also apparent that not only is the US justice system outdated, but it fails to be inclusive to cater to the true spectrums of society beyond half-hearted school curriculum projects.

Earlier in September, Marcellus Williams, despite the entirety of his prosecution and the victim’s family expressing significant reservations regarding the weapon used to prove his conviction, and the agreement to convert his death sentence into life imprisonment, was executed. The nuances are innumerable: Black, Muslim, judged by an almost entirely white jury. While the impact lingers across the diversity of its institutions, the criminal justice system is no exception.

The American criminal justice system is a grotesque monument to inequality, inefficiency, and institutional cruelty. Anyone who defends the status quo either doesn’t understand the staggering scale of its failures or benefits from them. It’s not just broken; it’s engineered to break people, particularly those from marginalized communities. Let’s start by examining some of the most glaringly unjust policies and laws that continue to perpetuate this travesty.

The concept of mandatory minimum sentences is a tyrant’s dream. By stripping judges of the ability to weigh the specifics of a case and imposing one-size-fits-all sentences, we’ve created a system that punishes nuance and rewards brutality. The Fair Sentencing Act of 2010 and the First Step Act of 2018 were minor course corrections, aimed at reducing the disparity between sentences for crack and powder cocaine offenses, but let’s be clear: these reforms are a drop in the ocean. The truth is, that mandatory minimums—especially for non-violent offenders—have ruined lives, torn apart families, and disproportionately affected communities of color. These laws were never about justice; they were about control. They need to be abolished, not reformed, because their very existence is predicated on the notion that certain lives are disposable.

Take the abomination that is the “Three Strikes” law. Imagine receiving a life sentence not for violent crimes, but for petty thefts or minor drug possession because the system has decided your three minor offenses add up to permanent exile. The sheer absurdity of locking people away for life for non-violent infractions is emblematic of a society that is obsessed with punishment and unconcerned with justice. It's punitive sadism, wrapped up in legalese, and it’s high time we admit it.

The racial disparities in the criminal justice system are not an accident—they’re a feature. Black and Hispanic people are disproportionately incarcerated at rates that should shock the conscience, but for too many Americans, this injustice has become background noise. It’s not just theoretical. Look at the case of Kalief Browder, who was held at Rikers Island for three years without trial for allegedly stealing a backpack. Three years. He was subjected to solitary confinement and inhumane conditions, and when he was finally released, he took his own life. The system didn’t just fail him; it actively killed him.

Troy Davis is another glaring example of racial injustice. Despite significant doubts about his guilt and global outcry, Davis was executed in 2011. What does that tell you about the value placed on Black lives in the justice system? This isn’t a case of isolated incidents; it’s a pattern, a foundational rot. The statistical evidence speaks for itself: African Americans and Hispanics are disproportionately incarcerated for drug-related offenses despite comparable usage rates across racial lines. We cannot even begin to talk about reform until we face the ugly truth that the system is designed to treat people of color as inherently more criminal.

Muslims in the U.S. criminal justice system face disproportionate levels of scrutiny, surveillance, and discrimination, stemming from post-9/11 Islamophobia and entrenched racial biases. Case in point: the Holy Land Foundation Five—a group of Muslim men who were convicted in 2008 on highly controversial charges of providing material support to terrorism. Their trial revealed how flimsy evidence and a politicized legal system could destroy the lives of innocent individuals under the guise of national security. Moreover, the NYPD’s unconstitutional surveillance of Muslim communities, revealed in a 2011 investigation, highlights how entire populations are criminalized based solely on their faith. Despite having no links to terrorism, Muslims face heightened arrests and harsher sentences, with the justice system often conflating religious identity with presumed guilt. This systematic targeting reinforces a culture of fear and isolation, making the U.S. criminal justice system complicit in perpetuating Islamophobic narratives.

Transgender individuals encounter severe discrimination and violence within the U.S. criminal justice system, often compounded by their marginalized gender identity. The case of CeCe McDonald, a Black transgender woman, exemplifies this injustice. After defending herself from a racist, transphobic attack, McDonald was charged with second-degree murder and sentenced to 41 months in a men's prison, despite the dangers trans women face in such facilities. Transgender people, particularly those of color, are disproportionately arrested and imprisoned due to factors like homelessness, poverty, and systemic discrimination. In prison, they endure further abuse, including denial of gender-affirming healthcare and placement in facilities that do not align with their gender identity. The lack of policies protecting transgender inmates from violence and the broader systemic biases they face demand urgent reform to ensure their safety and dignity within the criminal justice system.

Policing Reform: Accountability Is Non-Negotiable

The George Floyd Justice in Policing Act is an attempt to deal with the pandemic of police brutality in America, but let’s be honest—it barely scratches the surface. Qualified immunity is an absolute farce, a legal doctrine that shields police officers from accountability. It is a get-out-of-jail-free card for those who murder and brutalize with impunity. When we hear names like George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and Eric Garner, we’re reminded that in the eyes of the law, police officers are above reproach. Reforming qualified immunity isn’t enough. It needs to be eradicated. Police accountability must be the standard, not the exception.

Bail Reform: Criminalizing Poverty

The cash bail system is nothing less than a modern-day debtors’ prison. It disproportionately punishes the poor, forcing them to languish in jail for months, sometimes years, simply because they can’t afford bail. Meanwhile, wealthy individuals accused of heinous crimes can walk free while awaiting trial. The New York Bail Reform Act of 2020 took a step in the right direction by eliminating cash bail for most misdemeanors and non-violent felonies, but predictably, it faced backlash. Why? Because politicians fear being seen as “soft on crime,” and because they know that reforming the system threatens the very foundations of their fear-mongering electoral strategy.

Legislative and Policy Solutions: The Path to Real Justice

The expansion of the First Step Act is an absolute minimum, not a victory lap. Yes, the Act provided some much-needed reforms, but it’s hardly a comprehensive solution. We need to go much further, pushing for the complete elimination of mandatory minimums, which are blunt instruments that strip judges of their ability to administer justice. These mandatory minimums don’t just remove judicial discretion; they actively fuel mass incarceration, especially for non-violent offenders. The U.S. government must stop pretending that throwing more people into prison for longer periods magically solves crime. Instead, let’s push for rehabilitation, for human dignity, for a system that actually works.

For-profit prisons are an affront to any concept of justice. The very idea that companies can profit off of mass incarceration is morally repugnant. Federal legislation must eliminate private prisons and ensure transparency in how prison contracts are awarded. These contracts are rife with corruption and kickbacks, designed to maintain an endless cycle of incarceration for profit. It’s time to slam the door on this toxic industry once and for all.

New Jersey made a bold move when it virtually eliminated cash bail, replacing it with a risk assessment system. This law was groundbreaking because it proved that states can dismantle cash bail without causing chaos. The reform worked, despite the fear-mongering from so-called “tough on crime” advocates. This shows that the entire narrative around cash bail being necessary to maintain public safety is a lie. It’s time for other states to follow New Jersey’s lead and enact similar reforms.

The U.S. criminal justice system, in its current form, perpetuates deep-seated inequalities, disproportionately targeting the most vulnerable populations, from Muslims to transgender individuals. True reform requires dismantling the structural biases that criminalize identity and establishing a justice system rooted in fairness, humanity, and accountability. Without confronting these injustices head-on, we will continue to uphold a broken system that profits from the suffering of marginalized communities. The call for change is not just necessary—it is urgent.

Photo Credit: LinkedIn