
Pup fatally struck by speeding e-bike – and grieving NYC owner can't get justice thanks to legal loophole: ‘Just heartbreaking'
A tiny pooch was fatally struck by an e-bike in a sidewalk hit-run on the Upper East Side on Memorial Day – but the dog's grieving owner says she can't get justice for the pup because of a loophole in state law.
6 Little Fennel was tragically struck and killed by an e-bike in a sidewalk hit-and-run in Manhattan over Memorial Day weekend.
Local resident Sarah Grant's 18-month-old shih tzu-poodle mix Fennel – who Grant rescued in December – was out with a dog walker when she was struck on the sidewalk by an e-bike rider on East 96th Street near Third Avenue in Manhattan just before 6 p.m. that Monday, her owner said.
Advertisement
'She was not very responsive,' Grant told The Post, recalling the moment her dog walker rushed Fennel back to her nearby apartment building. 'Her eyes rolled back into her head, and she was barely moving. It was just heartbreaking.'
Fennel sustained a traumatic brain injury and severe skull fracture and was euthanized hours later.
But when her owner attempted to file a police report with the NYPD, she was told she couldn't, as the incident wasn't a criminal matter — because dogs are only considered property under the law.
Advertisement
6 The 18-month-old pop was struck by a speeding e-bike rider on the sidewalk on East 96th Street near Third Avenue.
Google Maps
'I pushed back. If dogs are property, then this is a property crime,' Grant said. 'And they [still] said, 'No, you cannot submit a report.' ' Grant said.
She said she was told only her dog walker — who was also injured in the incident — could file a report.
'This is a wake-up call for me,' Grant said. 'I've always had pets, and it's an oversight that there is no legal recourse.
Advertisement
'Setting a car on fire is considered to be a worse felony than setting a dog on fire.'
The legal loophole is already the subject of a state bill introduced in January by Assemblywoman Linda Rosenthal (D-Manhattan). The bill seeks to swap the 'property' classification of such animals to 'sentient beings' and establish that they can be a victim of a crime. The bill has remained in committee since its introduction.
A 'sentient being is one who perceives or responds to sensations of whatever kind—sight, hearing, touch, taste, or smell,' according to Merriam-Webster's dictionary.
6 State Assemblywoman Linda Rosenthal (D-Manhattan) is pushing to reclassify animals under the law and establish that they can be a victim of a crime.
AP
Advertisement
The Mayor's Office of Animal Welfare told The Post it is looking into the matter in conjunction with other city agencies.
'We are heartbroken to hear about Fennel and are in touch with her family,' a rep for the office told The Post.
6 Upper East Side resident Sarah Grant says she just wants justice for her pup Fennel.
In addition to championing Rosenthal's bill to reclassify animals as 'sentient beings' under the law, Grant is calling for more enforcement for pedestrians safety on Gotham's sidewalks, where any form of biking is illegal for riders over the age of 12.
'Whether that's for humans or pets, it needs to be a bigger priority,' Grant said of the issue. 'An e-bike at that speed is deadly. I think people need to have a license and prove they have an understanding of traffic law in order to drive them.'
Janet Schroeder, director and co-founder of the NYC E-Vehicle Safety Alliance, which has called for the registration and licensing of e-bikes, told The Post that Fennel's passing is 'incredibly sad' and 'infuriating' — but not surprising.
'The fact that the e-biker fled is also expected,' she said. 'The rider flees the crash scene the majority of the time and therefore the rider can't be held accountable because they can't be identified.'
6 Fennel was out with a dog walker when he was killed.
Advertisement
Schroeder said Fennel's untimely death is yet another reason city legislators must pass the proposed Priscilla's Law, a 'common-sense solution' requiring license plates on e-vehicles 'so that egregious riding can be identified by enforcement cameras and riders held accountable to following the basic rules of the road which will change egregious riding behavior.'
In 104 e-bike-related crashes that Schroeder's group recorded, only four riders remained at the scene, according to the coalition — and in only six cases were crashes logged by the NYPD.
'This is a public-health crisis, and there is blood on the hands of any legislator who continues to do nothing but talk,' Schroeder added.
6 The pooch was adopted as a rescue dog in December.
Advertisement
Fennel's tragic passing comes just weeks after the mauling of chihuahua pup Penny on the Upper West Side by a pair of pitbulls sparked public outcry over how the city and state handle animal-related crimes.
As dogs are considered property under state law, police often don't get involved unless a human is attacked or a human owner participates in crimes against dogs — and justice for Penny has yet to be served as well, animal advocates say.
'[From] East Harlem to Brooklyn, there are people who … have the same concern: Somebody has dogs who attack other dogs, and nobody does anything about it,' city Council Member Gale Brewer told The Post this month.
'The agencies try, but they operate in a silo. We need to have everyone working together.'
Advertisement
Grant said, 'I think if people knew and understood the ramifications of [the law], it would help galvanize action.
'I don't want any money out of this — I just want accountability, I want the laws to change,' she said.
'I don't want any other people to have to go through what I'm going through.'

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles

Yahoo
an hour ago
- Yahoo
Mom of shot-to-death Brooklyn teen was planning move to escape gun violence
The mother of a teen shot to death on a Brooklyn street just weeks before his graduation said she had been trying to get him out of town before it was too late. Jeremiah Griffiths, 18, was set to graduate from James Madison High School this month when he shot in the head on Myrtle Ave. and Tompkins Ave. in Bedford-Stuyvesant while out celebrating Memorial Day. 'I wanted to get him out of here so bad. I did,' Jeremiah's devastated mother, Vanessa Victor, 37, told the Daily News in an exclusive interview. 'Because gun violence here is left and right. All we would do is make plans of how we're leaving Brooklyn.' Jeremiah clung to life for two days before dying at Kings County Hospital on May 28. 'The older he got, the quicker I wanted to get him out of Brooklyn,' his mother said. 'It was hard for me to pick up and leave because my daughter's school's here, his school's there, my job is here and I myself am finishing school in November.' But that didn't stop the family from coming up with a way out. 'We had a plan,' Victor said. 'He was going to graduate and go to the military or go away to college or graduate and stay here for a little bit — and after I graduate, we would move out of the state and purchase a home somewhere. That was our plan.' 'I don't think Brooklyn is a good environment for young Black boys,' she added. 'I wanted to get him out of here either way, to college, just away. We didn't have time to.' No neighborhood is safe, she said, not the Bedford-Stuyvesant area where Jeremiah was killed nor Marine Park where he lived with his single parent mother. Victor said her son was visiting friends throwing Memorial Day barbecues and had plans to see a girl that night. She said the deadly shooting was caught on video but that she refuses to watch it, relying instead on descriptions from friends, family and detectives. 'He was just walking. He was with a young lady,' Victor said. 'They said he was looking down on his phone. I was told that there were multiple gunshots fired, and one hit him, hit him in the head. And they said in the video it looked like he was about to run but he fell straight to the ground.' There have been no arrests. Victor was at a Starbucks down the block from her home with her daughter, who she was going to bring to a carnival, when her RIng doorbell alerted her that cops were at her door. 'I automatically did a U-turn and came right back and met them here and that's when they told me, in front of his sister,' she said. 'My first question to them was, 'How bad is it?' And they said, 'It's not too good,' and that he was in critical care at Kings County Hospital. So I just immediately ran over there. I couldn't even talk to them. His sister was in shock as well.' Two days later he died. 'He was very funny and charismatic, that was his personality,' his mother said. 'He knew how to make people laugh. He played sports. He played basketball. He played football at his school. Everyone that came across him loved him. He always did extracurricular programs. There would be little job programs where he would get job training and things like that. He would do things like that after school. He was loved. He was loved.' A GoFundMe was launched to help Jeremiah's family with funeral expenses and rebuilding their lives. 'Things as simple as just ordering food is weird,' she said. 'Like yesterday, I was ordering for my daughter and I and it's just weird to not ask him what he wants. It's just always been that way. So it's different. I guess as I come across things is when it hits me that he's not here anymore.' Victor has only begun to fathom a future without her son. 'I raised him as a single parent and we kind of grew up together because I had him at 20 years old,' she said. 'And I just tried to put him in good schools and good neighborhoods. He wanted to go away to the military. That was the plan. He was supposed to be graduating. He was still researching what he wanted to do but the plan was for him to go away to the military and get out of here.' 'I just really want them to catch who did this,' she added.
Yahoo
an hour ago
- Yahoo
Remembering the Mother Emanuel Church Shooting 10 Years Later
Tim Grant is comforted during a prayer vigil on June 22, 2015 at the Charleston Southern University for the victims of the Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church mass shooting where nine people were killed, including two of Grant's cousins. Credit - Joe Raedle—Getty Images Ten years ago this month, a 21-year-old misfit who imagined himself a white supremacist zealot walked casually through the unlocked door of the oldest African Methodist Episcopal Church in the South. Without hesitation, he was invited into a basement fellowship hall to join 12 African American worshippers at their weekly Bible study. After roughly 45 minutes, once the congregants had closed their eyes in benediction, the young man removed a .45 caliber Glock from his waist pack and began to methodically assassinate nine men and women, ranging in age from 26 to 87. Three were on the ministerial staff, including the pastor, who also was serving his fourth term in the state senate. Each was shot at least five times, with the oldest, church matriarch Susie Jackson, shredded by ten hollow-point bullets. The survivors reported that the shooter made his racist intentions explicit as he fired, and he eagerly confirmed his sickening purpose to investigators after being captured the next day. As a journalist who had chronicled progress and regress in my native South across four decades, I was deeply affected by the murders on June 17, 2015, at Emanuel African Methodist Church in Charleston, S.C.—Mother Emanuel, as it is known. It was a blunt force reminder of the persistence of racial violence despite our fitful progress on civil rights. The timing toward the end of Barack Obama's second term seemed a pointed rebuke to any who still saw in his elections the heralding of a 'post-racial' America. Two days later, I was, like so many, simultaneously awed and befuddled by the scene at Dylann Roof's televised bond hearing, when five victims' family members rose one after the next to offer some measure of forgiveness to the remorseless killer. 'I will never talk to her again, I will never be able to hold her again,' wailed Nadine Collier, the now motherless daughter of church sexton Ethel Lance. 'But I forgive you. And have mercy on your soul.' Even to the faithful, it seemed among the purest expressions of Christianity ever witnessed, and it inspired Obama to deliver a stirring eulogy that, while remembered for his warbling of 'Amazing Grace,' also was his most searing and authentic effort at grappling with race. But what did the extension of grace really mean in the context of this tragedy? What did it mean, for that matter, in the context of 400 years of Black suffering, oppression, and injustice? Was it as simple as 'forgive us our trespasses' and 'forgive them, for they know not what they do?' Or were those Scriptural entreaties the foundation for something more self-protective that had evolved from centuries of systemic victimization? While writing a book about Mother Emanuel, I devoted much of the next decade to exploring those questions, convinced that answers might be found through a deeper study of the backstories of the congregation and its denomination. Where better to search for the intersections of history and theology, I figured, than in Charleston, the steepled Holy City, where nearly half of all enslaved Africans disembarked in North America and where the Civil War began? As I came to better understand the subversive role played by the Black church in resisting oppression, it grew clearer that forgiveness was not always for the forgiven. Read More: How Do You Forgive a Murder? Black Charlestonians, as it ends up, have had a lot to forgive. The intensity of their suffering, and of their resistance to it, reverberates through the now 207-year story of Mother Emanuel and its predecessor congregation. When that body formed in 1818 after a bold walkout from white Methodist churches, it prompted an immediate and ruthless response. Congregants were arrested in mass and ministers jailed. Four years later, a purported slave insurrection plot was uncovered before it matured, and city authorities sourced its incubation in part to the church. Thirty-five men were led to the gallows, 17 with ties to the congregation. By order of the authorities, the sanctuary was dismantled board by board, and church leaders were forced into exile. What followed was a vicious legislative crackdown on the already limited rights of both enslaved and free Black Carolinians; then the broken promises of Reconstruction; then the lynchings and beatings and Klan intimidation; then the incessant indignities and denial of rights of the Jim Crow era; then the jailings of peaceful civil rights demonstrators, including Emanuel's pastor; then the flying of an offensive Confederate flag over the State Capitol; and then, in 2015, the fatal shooting of an unarmed Black man by a white policeman, followed 74 days later by the murders of nine churchgoers by a young neo-Nazi. The weight of it all, the duration of it all, can take your breath away. And for many, forgiveness might seem an inadequate response, given available options like anger, bitterness, hatred, revenge, retribution. A more natural one, perhaps a more human one, might even be 'Where was God?' But this presupposes that the forgiveness expressed toward Dylann Roof was for Dylann Roof. That, I concluded after interviewing survivors, family members, and theologians, likely misinterprets its intent and misunderstands the distinctive role that grace plays in the African American church. Each of the forgiving family members explained that they acted not out of concern for Roof's physical or spiritual welfare, but for their own. No slate had been wiped. Some did not care much whether Roof lived or died. (He remains on federal death row in Indiana, one of three inmates whose sentences were not commuted to life in prison by President Biden at the close of his term.) Survivor Felicia Sanders, who had witnessed the executions of her son and her aunt, wished God's mercy upon Roof at his bond hearing, but damned him 'to the pit of hell' at his trial. Those who forgave depicted the moment in mystical terms—unpremeditated, unexpected, the words just flowed. It was God talking, and they were mere vessels. But each also recognized in their act a timeworn survival mechanism, a tactic that had helped African Americans withstand enslavement, forced migration, captivity, indentured servitude, segregation, discrimination, denial of citizenship, and the constant threat of racial and sexual violence with their souls still, somehow, intact. Distilled over the centuries from pulpits and prayer meetings, it had become almost learned behavior, church elders told me, allowing Black Christians to purge themselves of self-destructive toxins. It served as an unburdening, not an undoing, a means not only of moral practice but of emotional self-preservation. Because the choice to forgive was one dignity that could not be taken away, it also served as a path to empowerment. It might be mistaken for submission, but in Charleston it reflected a resolve to leave the killer to the courts and to God. In that way, forgiveness resurrected agency for victims who had been robbed of it. 'He's not a part of my life anymore,' Rev. Anthony Thompson said to me of his slain wife's killer. 'Forgiveness has freed me of that, of him, completely. I'm not going to make him a lifetime partner.' Read More: Searching for Signs of a Change in Charleston Telling this history—the history of white supremacy and of Black suffering and resistance—matters now more than ever. It explains our past. It gives needed context to our present. It is a prerequisite to a just and empathetic future, ideals that have somehow fallen from fashion. Yet, we now confront a campaign to banish this history, to deny it and erase it, for crassly transparent political purposes. The telling of the entire story of America, after all, calls into question the greatness that Donald Trump pledges to restore, and agitates a base that remains threatened and excitable by our multicultural reality. Ten years ago, Roof's self-identification with the Confederate battle flag prompted the Republican leadership of South Carolina to remove it from the state Capitol grounds after more than fifty years of affront to a fourth of the population. A wildfire movement to eradicate Confederate symbolism swept the South, and Charleston's mayor and council used the fifth anniversary of the Emanuel tragedy, three weeks after the killing of George Floyd, to remove a statue of slavery defender John C. Calhoun from the city's central square. Today, we move in the opposite direction. Personnel and educational policies that recognize the value of diversity and acknowledge past injustices are under withering assault. Within the first three months of this administration, books about racism had been banned from the U.S. Naval Academy library, and a National Park Service webpage had been scrubbed of references to Harriet Tubman (decisions that were eventually reversed in part after public outcry). Pete Hegseth's Pentagon restored the names of Forts Benning and Bragg, asserting that they now honored soldiers who happened to have the same surnames as their former Confederate namesakes. A presidential executive order in March required the removal of "improper, divisive or anti-American ideology" from the Smithsonian Institution and the restoration of monuments and memorials that had been removed 'to perpetuate a false revision of history.' The Orwellian language only reinforced the point. Read More: The Battle for Our Memory Is the Battle for Our Country But debasing our history through censorship and ideological cherry-picking insults the memory of the nine saints who were murdered at Mother Emanuel, desecrating its sacred space all over again. In whitewashing the inglorious chapters of America's past, we leave a void in 'these truths' that may not prove forgivable. Contact us at letters@


New York Post
3 hours ago
- New York Post
Haley Joel Osment sentenced in court after his public intoxication arrest: report
Haley Joel Osment was sentenced after he was arrested for public intoxication in California in April. During his arraignment in court on Monday, the 'Sixth Sense' actor, 37, was granted a one-year diversion by the judge which requires him to attend at least three AA meetings per week for the next six months, according to People. Additionally, Osment has been ordered to meet with a therapist at least twice a week, the outlet reported. 8 Haley Joel Osment at the 'Poker Face' screening at PaleyFest LA 2025. Variety via Getty Images The Mono County district attorney reportedly objected to Osment's diversion request because of the actor's previous DUI conviction and that he used a racial slur against a police officer during his April arrest. If Osment completes the diversion, his charges will be dismissed by the court. If not, criminal proceedings will be reinstated, according to People. 8 Haley Joel Osment smiles in his mugshot. Mono County Sheriff/Mega The judge will review Osment's compliance with the diversion requirements at his next court date, set for Jan. 5, 2026. The Post has reached out to Osment's rep for comment. 8 Haley Joel Osment, Bruce Willis in 'The Sixth Sense.' The Kobal Collection On April 8, Osment was arrested for public intoxication and possession of a controlled substance at a ski resort in Mammoth Lakes, Calif. In bodycam footage of his arrest obtained by The Post, Osment called a police officer an antisemitic slur and a 'Nazi.' 8 Haley Joel Osment arrested for for public intoxication and possession of a controlled substance on April 8. Mammoth Lakes Police Department / MEGA 8 Haley Joel Osment used a racial slur during his arrest. Mammoth Lakes Police Department / MEGA At one point, he shouted, 'I've been kidnapped by a f – – king Nazi.' He also claimed he was 'being attacked' and accused officers of 'torturing me.' Osment was released shortly after his arrest. He was subsequently charged with two misdemeanors: possession of cocaine and disorderly conduct under the influence of alcohol in public. 8 Haley Joel Osment in a police car during his arrest at a California ski lodge. Mammoth Lakes Police Department / MEGA 'I'm absolutely horrified by my behavior,' the actor said in an exclusive statement to The Post after the incident. 'Had I known I used this disgraceful language in the throes of a blackout, I would have spoken up sooner.' 'The past few months of loss and displacement have broken me down to a very low emotional place,' he added. 8 Haley Joel Osment with his sister, 'Hannah Montana' star Emily Osment. Getty Images for Los Angeles Dodgers Foundation Three months before his arrest, Osment lose his home during the devastating Los Angeles wildfires and has reportedly had difficulty with his insurance. 'But that's no excuse for using this disgusting word,' Osment added in his statement to The Post. 'From the bottom of my heart, I apologize to absolutely everyone that this hurts. What came out of my mouth was nonsensical garbage – I've let the Jewish community down and it devastates me.' 8 Haley Joel Osment at the 'Somebody I Used To Know' premiere in Feb. 2023. FilmMagic He concluded: 'I don't ask for anyone's forgiveness, but I promise to atone for my terrible mistake.' In 2006, Osment was charged with misdemeanor drunk driving after he overturned his car and hit a mailbox in Los Angeles while intoxicated. Osment, who was 18 at the time, was sentenced to three years probation and 60 hours of rehab, as well as six months of Alcoholics Anonymous