Deal or no deal?

Tammy Curtis, Publisher

There are few things that send me into full-on rage mode. Pedophilia and children exposed to methamphetamine are at the very top of that list.

But not far behind are those responsible for holding offenders accountable who fail to use the authority entrusted to them.

We have seen far more than our fair share of crimes against children in the headlines over the past several months. It has to stop. Those who sexually abuse children or expose them to dangerous drugs should fear the consequences of doing so. And when they are caught, those consequences should mean something.

It makes me fighting mad to watch law enforcement officers do their jobs, investigate horrific allegations, gather evidence and finally put an alleged offender behind bars — only to watch the case make its way through the court system through continuance after continuance before the defendant is ultimately offered a plea agreement that substantially reduces or eliminates the original charges or potential punishment.

Then comes a suspended sentence or probation.

And, sometimes, within months, that same person is back in court on a petition to revoke that probation. The process begins again, and sometimes the result is yet another chance at probation.

At what point does a consequence actually become a consequence?

Law enforcement officers investigate crimes and make arrests, but prosecutors ultimately determine which criminal charges will be filed and which cases they will pursue. That authority carries an enormous responsibility, particularly when the alleged victim is a child. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes the prosecutor gets it right and the offender gets a long sentence, but these are most always during jury trials. 

When prosecutors are questioned about plea agreements in these cases, we often hear that the victim’s family agreed to the deal.

That may be true. But it does not always tell the entire story.

I have spoken with a significant number of women who told me they were faced with an agonizing choice: Their child would have to testify in court, or a plea agreement would likely be necessary.

Think about that choice.

A parent must decide whether to ask a traumatized child to once again relive perhaps the worst experience of his or her life, this time in a courtroom and potentially in the presence of the person accused of causing that trauma. Faced with that decision, some families understandably agree to a plea.

But can we really call that much of a choice?

We have made strides in helping child victims navigate the justice system, including the use of courthouse facility dogs and other accommodations. Every lawful option available to reduce the trauma of a child’s testimony should be explored and clearly explained to families.

If prosecutors believe the evidence collected by law enforcement, interviews and other investigative work is sufficient to file serious charges, then the public deserves to know why some of those charges later disappear in plea negotiations.

There may be legitimate evidentiary problems in individual cases. Witnesses may become unavailable. Evidence can be challenged. Prosecutors must weigh whether they can prove a charge beyond a reasonable doubt at trial, which is a higher standard than what is required at earlier stages of a criminal case.

But when serious charges involving children repeatedly end in dramatically reduced plea agreements, the public has every right to ask why.

That is the question of the day.

The decision to offer or accept a plea agreement rests largely in the hands of the prosecuting attorney. With that authority comes accountability.

This isn’t a game of Deal or No Deal.

A child’s life is involved. A child’s future is involved. The emotional scars may last long after everyone else in the courtroom has closed the file and moved on to the next case.

And sexual abuse isn’t the only issue making my blood boil.

We also have children being exposed to intoxicants — before they are born or while living in homes where illegal drugs are being used.

Then lawmakers create statutes requiring proof of particular elements, including intent, before certain enhanced penalties can apply.

From where I sit, there is something fundamentally wrong with a system in which an adult can knowingly use methamphetamine or other dangerous illegal drugs around a child, the child can have measurable exposure to those drugs, and we can still find ourselves arguing over whether the adult intended to expose that child.

What did they think would happen?

Likewise, when illegal drugs are repeatedly used during pregnancy and a newborn enters this world suffering the consequences of that exposure, it is difficult for me to understand why our laws should make accountability harder rather than easier.

Arkansas lawmakers have also passed measures intended to strengthen penalties for crimes against children, including provisions addressing exposure to methamphetamine and other chemical substances. Strengthening penalties sounds wonderful on paper.

But a law is only as strong as its ability to be enforced.

If additional requirements make the enhanced penalty nearly impossible to apply in the very cases the law was supposedly designed to address, what exactly have we accomplished?

Meanwhile, everyone else deals with the consequences.

Families deal with them. Teachers and schools deal with them. Foster families deal with them. Medical professionals deal with them. Taxpayers deal with them.

Most importantly, the children deal with them.

Children who had absolutely no say in what was done to them may live for years — sometimes a lifetime — with physical, behavioral and emotional consequences caused by the decisions of adults.

Enough.

We spend a great deal of time talking about protecting children. Politicians campaign on it. Prosecutors talk about it. Legislators introduce bills bearing children’s names and speak passionately about keeping them safe.

Words are easy.

Accountability is harder.

It is high time we hold the people entrusted with protecting children to the standard of the offices they sought and ask them to demonstrate, through their decisions and not merely their words, just how seriously they take crimes against the most vulnerable members of our communities.

Our children are not bargaining chips.

Their trauma is not something to be negotiated away for convenience.

Their futures are not expendable.

So when it comes to those who sexually abuse children, expose them to methamphetamine or otherwise destroy the innocence children have every right to enjoy, perhaps the question for those entrusted with enforcing and writing our laws should be very simple:

Deal or no deal?

When a child’s future is on the line, I know which answer I want to hear.