Last Monday, New York courts acquitted Daniel Penny, the white man who took the life of Jordan Neely, a 30-year-old street artist who was Black, on the NYC subway. Soon after the killing, Mayor Adams and Republican House Speaker Mike Johnson not only praised Penny’s use of the chokehold but called him a hero. As a criminal justice reform advocate, I’ll tell you this: the system is failing us. Advocates like me call it the “criminal legal system” because, as this case shows, if you’re Black there’s little justice in police stations or courtrooms. It’s a system built to uphold the status quo, and this verdict is a stark reminder of that. 

But there’s more to this than just one man’s acquittal. There are two deeper issues that are feeding this cycle. The first is this country’s failure to adequately address the root causes of violence, including the underfunding of critical services like mental health programs and affordable housing—resources that, had Jordan had access to, he would still be alive today. The second is something we all know too well: a society that continues to uphold a narrative on violence which emboldens and condones racialized harm, especially when it comes from white people towards Black people who are economically poor or suffering from mental illness.  

But let’s be clear: this isn’t just about individuals or race. It’s about a government that, at almost every turn, fails to provide communities with the resources they need to address violence and inequality. Through our work at Common Justice, we see the need to shift resources towards solutions that address many of the root causes of violence. Such a shift will move us away from a society that fears and criminalizes people who are suffering  towards one that supports them with the services they need.  

For example, Mayor Eric Adams’ recent plan to increase police intervention for people experiencing mental health crises only makes things worse. The last thing we need is more police forcibly removing people from the streets and sending them into hospitals for “assessment.” These policies don’t address the underlying issues—they simply escalate them. History has shown that police intervention in mental health crises doesn’t solve the problem—it often leads to more harm, especially for Black people. In fact, it is a guaranteed way to escalate a crisis into violence. 

But the alarming trend here is the way the media frames these events. When reporting on violence, outlets often criminalize those who survive violence, especially when they are Black. For example, during the initial reporting of Neely’s untimely passing, the media was quick to mention and release his rap sheet, which insinuates to readers his background justifies the violence against him.  Additionally, in the coverage afterwards, most stories mentioned how Penny was an ex-marine, using his veteran status to pacify, or worse, justify his actions. This language doesn’t just distort the truth—it perpetuates the myth that those who cause harm, can’t be victims of harm and are dangerous by nature, deserving of excessive punishment. We can’t move forward until we challenge this narrative.  

Violence doesn’t happen in a vacuum. It’s enabled when we fail to address its root causes and when the stories we tell afterward ignore those underlying factors. 

While the circumstances of each tragedy may differ, the systems enabling this violence remain the same. The heartbreak and outcry from the Neely family following the court’s failure to deliver justice in the case against Penny begs the question of why our society continues to rely on the criminal legal system to solve the problem of violence.  Police, courts, and prisons—which are overwhelmingly biased against Black survivors—often leave families without closure and allow those responsible for harm to avoid true accountability. But even if the courts had found Penny guilty, the process would not have met the family’s needs, as punishment is virtually never a full remedy for survivors or a force of change for people who cause harm.  This inherent failure of the system only leads to more suffering and violence, preventing those who are harmed from fully healing and hindering those who cause harm from obtaining the critical insights needed to ensure they don’t harm again.  One of things that Jordan Neely’s father said he wanted from Penny, but never received, was a basic apology. He never received an apology from the man who murdered his son — where is the justice or accountability in that? 

I challenge all of us to move beyond the belief that we can only achieve public safety through the criminal legal system. What if the media began to explore and uplift community-based alternatives that could offer healing for victims? Is it possible for the government to prioritize and fund alternatives to prison that would not only end our reliance on incarceration when the people who commit violence are Black, but also hold people like Penny, and other rouge actors like him, truly accountable to the families that lost loved ones due to their actions? Our culture is trapped in a cycle that doesn’t bring us closer to true healing and addressing violence – it’s time we ask if something else is possible.  

Jordan Neely deserved to live, to have access to the services he needed, to have his basic needs met. His death is not just a tragedy—it’s a call to action. We cannot keep investing in a system that has failed people like Jordan. We cannot afford to stay silent. We cannot afford to ignore the root causes of violence. It’s time to demand a future where healing, accountability, and community care are at the center of how we address harm. We cannot keep pretending that the legal system is the answer. It’s time to start rebuilding a system that actually works for everyone, especially those who need it the most. 

Chanda D. Director of Communications