Latest news with #Jessica'sLaw
Yahoo
07-05-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
‘Jessica's Law' aims to expand charges that qualify for death penalty in Pennsylvania
PENNSYLVANIA (WTAJ) — A Pennsylvania Representative announced plans for legislation that would expand the charges that qualify a defendant for the death penalty. The legislation, introduced by Rep. Zachary Mako (R-Leigh, Northampton), was named 'Jessica's Law,' after Jessica Padgett, who was shot in the back of her head by her step-father, Gregory Graf in 2014. He then sexually abused her corpse while using two video cameras to record his actions, according to the bill. Graf was sentenced to the maximum punishment under Pennsylvania law, life in prison without the possibility of parole. In order to pursue the death penalty, prosecutors would have needed to find an 'aggravating factor' in addition to the murder itself. Now, Graf resides in the state prison in Fayette County. Get the latest news, weather forecasts and sports stories delivered straight to your inbox! Sign up for our newsletters. Mako's legislation would amend the Pennsylvania Consolidated Statutes to include the desecration or mutilation of a corpse as an aggravating circumstance that, in turn, may qualify a defendant for the death penalty in the Commonwealth. Copyright 2025 Nexstar Media, Inc. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed. For the latest news, weather, sports, and streaming video, head to WTAJ -
Yahoo
03-05-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
A law seeks to protect children from sex offenders — 20 years later, the jury is still out
Mark Lunsford appears at a July 2005 rally in support of the Children's Safety Act on Capitol Hill in Washington, D.C. () Before his sentencing in March 2025, a convicted child rapist asked for a judgment that would have set him free in 2027. The Kansas resident received 25 years with no chance of parole. The reason? Jessica's Law, which Kansas lawmakers passed in 2006. Kansas was one of the first states to follow Florida's initial enactment of Jessica's Law 20 years ago in response to the rape and murder of 9-year-old Jessica 'Jessie' Lunsford in Homosassa, Florida. Forty-four other states have followed, altering how America polices, punishes and paroles pedophiles. Although the law differs in some details from state to state, it generally directs judges to sentence people convicted of sex crimes involving children to a minimum of 25 years. Jessica's Law also monitors offenders' movements after prison and strives to keep them away from places where children congregate, such as schools and parks. Many policymakers, prosecutors, defense attorneys and judges have protested key aspects of the law. They are particularly opposed to its strict minimum sentencing guidelines, which they've described as oversimplified and counterproductive. Proponents, however, point to the law's origins: Jessica's February 2005 abduction, rape and murder by a repeat, convicted sex offender. They maintain the crime, which riveted the country for months and sent the third grader's father, Mark, on a national child protection crusade, exposed deep-seated flaws in law enforcement and the legal system that made children around the country vulnerable to sexual assault. Jessica's Law remains mostly intact throughout the country. But it has come under scrutiny and has undergone changes. As a journalism professor who directed a documentary about Lunsford's efforts to persuade politicians to pass the law that bears his daughter's name, I've kept up with its trials and tribulations. Twenty years after Florida introduced the law, the jury is still out on whether America's children are safer as a result. In making 'Jessie's Dad,' I filmed Lunsford visiting state capitals and Capitol Hill and interviewed many of his allies and detractors. I also reviewed interrogation footage and newsreels, attended the trial of John Couey — Jessica's killer — and pored over proposed and passed bills, court transcripts and police records. The resulting 2011 documentary highlights the law's major perceived pros and cons. The most glaring of the legal system's shortcomings before Jessica's Law, according to Lunsford and other activist groups, was lax treatment by the police and courts. That, they said, allowed many sex offenders who target children to roam free. As Lunsford hopscotched from state to state to push for the law's passage, he often noted that prior to raping and killing Jessie, Couey was convicted twice of molesting children but served only fractions of his sentences. 'One time they gave him (Couey) a 10-year sentence; he did two years,' Lunsford told me. 'One time, he (Couey) broke into a house and assaulted a child, and he would've gotten more time had he stolen their silverware.' Most of the states that have enacted Jessica's Law direct judges to sentence child rapists to a minimum of 25 years in prison. Besides mandatory minimum sentencing, most states that have passed Jessica's Law require sex-offender parolees to wear a GPS monitor — something Couey never did. Lunsford repeatedly pointed out that an electronic ankle bracelet, which tells the police the location of the person wearing it, could have led the police to Couey's room in his sister's trailer across the street from the Lunsford's mobile home. That's where Couey kept Jessie for three days before burying her alive in a backyard grave. In 2007, soon after Ohio passed its version of the law, Lunsford's son Josh faced felony charges for fondling his 14-year-old girlfriend. The girl's mother, who disapproved of their relationship, turned him in as soon as he turned 18 and became an adult in the eyes of the legal system. Josh ended up being charged with a misdemeanor, to which he pleaded guilty. He served 10 days in jail and 12 months under supervised release. Reeling from this incident, the elder Lunsford advocated amending Jessica's Law with so-called Romeo and Juliet provisions. These stipulations typically exempt most young adults from harsh sentencing when the age difference between them and their romantic teen partners adds up to fewer than four or five years. Pennsylvania, the second state after Florida to pass Jessica's Law in 2006, became the first to add a Romeo and Juliet provision in 2011. Today, 44 states have likewise adopted similar provisions. Legal challenges, too, have revamped parts of Jessica's Law in some states. In 2015, for instance, California's Supreme Court ruled the law violated the U.S. Constitution by infringing offenders' liberty and privacy. The law did so, the court determined, by universally ordering registered sex offenders to stay at least 2,000 feet away from schools and other places where children congregate. That meant they could not live within 2,000 feet of a school or places where children gathered. Prior to the ruling, the Jessica's Law residency restriction left many of California's registered sex offenders with few viable housing options. It thus forced scores of them onto the streets and contributed to the Golden State's homelessness crisis. Critics have also noted it is difficult to monitor homeless pedophiles. Although the California Supreme Court ruling technically applied only to San Diego County, it has spurred other parts of the state to restrict residency on a case-by-case basis. Another divisive Jessica's Law stipulation, however, may be too complex to simply included in the original Florida law, electronic tracking appeared to hold great promise. Today, 38 additional states electronically monitor sex offenders. Yet many accused and paroled sex offenders wearing ankle bracelets have nonetheless harmed children. For instance, David Renz broke free of his GPS monitor in 2013 while awaiting a child pornography trial in New York and raped a fourth grader. He also killed the 10-year-old girl's protector and school librarian, Lori Bresnahan. While others harmed children after cutting off their ankle bracelets, some, like Arkansas resident Leontarius Reed, committed sex crimes while wearing GPS devices. Reed was wearing the device after a previous nonsexual offense. Critics claim electronic monitoring numbs society into a misleading state of comfort. Others argue it's better than losing track of sex offenders. They also say it deters crime and has saved countless lives. Despite the widespread adoption of Jessica's Law, comprehensive research is still needed to measure its impact. Such a project would examine whether America's children are truly safer now than they were on May 1, 2005. This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article. Boaz Dvir teaches journalism, directs and produces documentaries, and directs the Hammel Family Human Rights Initiative and the Holocaust, Genocide and Human Rights Education Initiative at Penn State. Through its opinion section, Kansas Reflector works to amplify the voices of people who are affected by public policies or excluded from public debate. Find information, including how to submit your own commentary, here.
Yahoo
02-05-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
A law seeks to protect children from sex offenders − 20 years later, the jury is still out
Before his sentencing in March 2025, a convicted child rapist asked for a judgment that would have set him free in 2027. The Kansas resident received 25 years with no chance of parole. The reason? Jessica's Law, which Kansas lawmakers passed in 2006. Kansas was one of the first states to follow Florida's initial enactment of Jessica's Law 20 years ago in response to the rape and murder of 9-year-old Jessica 'Jessie' Lunsford in Homosassa, Florida. Forty-four other states have followed, altering how America polices, punishes and paroles pedophiles. Although the law differs in some details from state to state, it generally directs judges to sentence people convicted of sex crimes involving children to a minimum of 25 years. Jessica's Law also monitors offenders' movements after prison and strives to keep them away from places where children congregate, such as schools and parks. Many policymakers, prosecutors, defense attorneys and judges have protested key aspects of the law. They are particularly opposed to its strict minimum sentencing guidelines, which they've described as oversimplified and counterproductive. Proponents, however, point to the law's origins: Jessica's February 2005 abduction, rape and murder by a repeat, convicted sex offender. They maintain the crime, which riveted the country for months and sent the third grader's father, Mark, on a national child protection crusade, exposed deep-seated flaws in law enforcement and the legal system that made children around the country vulnerable to sexual assault. Jessica's Law remains mostly intact throughout the country. But it has come under scrutiny and has undergone changes. As a journalism professor who directed a documentary about Lunsford's efforts to convince politicians to pass the law that bears his daughter's name, I've kept up with its trials and tribulations. Twenty years after Florida introduced the law, the jury is still out on whether America's children are safer as a result. In making 'Jessie's Dad,' I filmed Lunsford visiting state capitals and Capitol Hill and interviewed many of his allies and detractors. I also reviewed interrogation footage and newsreels, attended the trial of John Couey – Jessica's killer – and pored over proposed and passed bills, court transcripts and police records. The resulting 2011 documentary highlights the law's major perceived pros and cons. The most glaring of the legal system's shortcomings before Jessica's Law, according to Lunsford and other activist groups, was lax treatment by the police and courts. That, they said, allowed many sex offenders who target children to roam free. As Lunsford hopscotched from state to state to push for the law's passage, he often noted that prior to raping and killing Jessie, Couey was convicted twice of molesting children but served only fractions of his sentences. 'One time they gave him (Couey) a 10-year sentence; he did two years,' Lunsford told me. 'One time, he (Couey) broke into a house and assaulted a child, and he would've gotten more time had he stolen their silverware.' Most of the states that have enacted Jessica's Law direct judges to sentence child rapists to a minimum of 25 years in prison. Besides mandatory minimum sentencing, most states that have passed Jessica's Law require sex-offender parolees to wear a GPS monitor − something Couey never did. Lunsford repeatedly pointed out that an electronic ankle bracelet, which tells the police the location of the person wearing it, could have led the police to Couey's room in his sister's trailer across the street from the Lunsford's mobile home. That's where Couey kept Jessie for three days before burying her alive in a backyard grave. In 2007, soon after Ohio passed its version of the law, Lunsford's son Josh faced felony charges for fondling his 14-year-old girlfriend. The girl's mother, who disapproved of their relationship, turned him in as soon as he turned 18 and became an adult in the eyes of the legal system. Josh ended up being charged with a misdemeanor, to which he pleaded guilty. He served 10 days in jail and 12 months under supervised release. Reeling from this incident, the elder Lunsford advocated amending Jessica's Law with so-called Romeo and Juliet provisions. These stipulations typically exempt most young adults from harsh sentencing when the age difference between them and their romantic teen partners adds up to fewer than four or five years. Pennsylvania, the second state after Florida to pass Jessica's Law in 2006, became the first to add a Romeo and Juliet provision in 2011. Today, 44 states have likewise adopted similar provisions. Legal challenges, too, have revamped parts of Jessica's Law in some states. In 2015, for instance, California's Supreme Court ruled the law violated the U.S. Constitution by infringing offenders' liberty and privacy. The law did so, the court determined, by universally ordering registered sex offenders to stay at least 2,000 feet away from schools and other places where children congregate. That meant they could not live within 2,000 feet of a school or places where children gathered. Prior to the ruling, the Jessica's Law residency restriction left many of California's registered sex offenders with few viable housing options. It thus forced scores of them onto the streets and contributed to the Golden State's homelessness crisis. Critics have also noted it is difficult to monitor homeless pedophiles. Although the California Supreme Court ruling technically applied only to San Diego County, it has spurred other parts of the state to restrict residency on a case-by-case basis. Another divisive Jessica's Law stipulation, however, may be too complex to simply modify. When included in the original Florida law, electronic tracking appeared to hold great promise. Today, 38 additional states electronically monitor sex offenders. Yet many accused and paroled sex offenders wearing ankle bracelets have nonetheless harmed children. For instance, David Renz broke free of his GPS monitor in 2013 while awaiting a child pornography trial in New York and raped a fourth grader. He also killed the 10-year-old girl's protector and school librarian, Lori Bresnahan. While others harmed children after cutting off their ankle bracelets, some, like Arkansas resident Leontarius Reed, committed sex crimes while wearing GPS devices. Reed was wearing the device after a previous nonsexual offense. Critics claim electronic monitoring numbs society into a misleading state of comfort. Others argue it's better than losing track of sex offenders. They also say it deters crime and has saved countless lives. Despite the widespread adoption of Jessica's Law, comprehensive research is still needed to measure its impact. Such a project would examine whether America's children are truly safer now than they were on May 1, 2005. This article is republished from The Conversation, a nonprofit, independent news organization bringing you facts and trustworthy analysis to help you make sense of our complex world. It was written by: Boaz Dvir, Penn State Read more: Older Australians are also hurting from the housing crisis. Where are the election policies to help them? States that impose severe prison sentences accomplish the opposite of what they say they want Gun violence in Philadelphia plummeted in 2024 − researchers aren't sure why, but here are 3 factors at play Boaz Dvir does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
Yahoo
30-04-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
Opinion - Democrats have fallen into a narrative trap with Kilmar Abrego Garcia
Stephen Miller, President Trump's deputy chief of staff and one of the architects of his immigration policies, is no idiot. He's the product of one of the country's best public school systems and a graduate of Duke University. And since at least the ripe age of 16, he has been stewing about America's immigration policies. So, when Miller declared this month that the illegally deported Kilmar Abrego Garcia 'is not a 'Maryland man.' He is not a 'Maryland' anything,' one should assume that his words were deliberate and by design. Political analysts have suggested that Miller's comments — since echoed by the vice president, the White House press secretary and others — were primarily focused on drawing Democrats further into a spat about immigration and onto unfavorable political turf, but that's only half the picture. For all the madness of this administration and its actors, they are experts in the execution of the 'othering playbook.' At its core, it's as simple as centering a policy debate on an individual and then relentlessly defining that individual in a way that is politically beneficial. This helps to shift what is often a complicated policy debate to a discussion about an individual's character and identity. In this case, Miller's words make clear that Garcia isn't American. That's true (at least in a narrow definition), and for many that framing opens the door to questions about Garcia and how he is different from the mass of folks who define themselves as American. In this framing, Garcia is now 'other' — not just Salvadoran, but thanks to baseless claims of other administration officials, a gang member, a domestic abuser, a deadbeat father and so on. With every claim, Garcia becomes bigger and bigger and the policy of illegally deporting him smaller and smaller. If you doubt the power of this person-centric narrative approach, just think of all the laws that have been attached to the story of a person: Megan's Law, Jessica's Law and the recent Laken Riley Act. For Democrats, there is a warning in all of this, and they need to be careful not to fall into the same trap they have repeatedly. By fixating on one person, they narrow the argument to that individual and set the stage for value and policy judgements that revolve around the character and circumstances of an individual, as opposed to the broader circumstances. The question becomes not 'Do I support 'accidentally' deporting folks who are in the U.S. legally?' but 'Do I think Garcia deserves to be in the U.S.?' For most, the answer to that latter question is murkier, and it becomes ever more so as the administration paints an increasingly negative (albeit fictional) picture. Should Republicans insist on a debate anchored in the individual, then the objective should be to expand the playing field. For example, why not make this about Trump's inner circle? Melania Trump came to the United States in 1996 on a tourist visa, then obtained a series of H1-B work visas as a model before receiving a green card in 2001. The first lady then, presumably with the president's blessing, sponsored her parents' green card applications and they became naturalized U.S. citizens in New York in 2018. The vice president's in-laws also weren't born in the U.S. Radhakrishna Chilukuri and Lakshmi Chilukuri, second lady Usha Vance's parents, immigrated from India more than 40 years ago. Elsewhere in the administration, FBI Director Kash Patel's parents first moved from Uganda to Canada in the early 1970s to escape ethnic persecution under Idi Amin, before eventually settling in the U.S. The list goes on and on, and it includes DOGE czar Elon Musk, who is originally from South Africa but also holds Canadian citizenship. Opening the aperture forces everyone to ask the same questions about almost everyone, making the issue more universal to a broader audience identity. Science tells us we tend to favor our own social group members over others, and that we see our group as more human. Opponents should therefore be framing this issue so as many people see their own stake in this administration's illegal actions as possible. For example — because my great grandparents emigrated from Poland via Ellis Island, is my citizenship going to be questioned? What about the status of my mother, born in Germany but now a U.S. passport holder? The president's statements themselves have opened the door to these inquiries. In his meeting with El Salvador's president, Nayib Bukele, Trump said, 'we also have homegrown criminals … I'd like to include them in the group of people to get them out of the country.' Given how loosely the president and his administration define who and what is 'criminal' and their proven disregard for the law, this is no empty threat — just consider all those who have been swept up already, a majority of whom are neither proven criminals and who have been denied due process. To come back to Miller and his worldview, it's fair to ask if Trump's definition wouldn't, in Miller's eyes, include the 12.8 million green card holders living in the U.S. or the 24.5 to 25 million naturalized U.S. citizens. Democrats would do well to force questions here — not by failing to defend Garcia or talking about his case, but by expanding the narrative to demonstrate how most Americans are tied in some way to an immigrant experience that is now qualifying folks to be 'mistakenly' deported. Felix Schein is the founder and president of the advocacy firm RALLY. Copyright 2025 Nexstar Media, Inc. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.
The Hill
30-04-2025
- Politics
- The Hill
Democrats have fallen into a narrative trap with Kilmar Abrego Garcia
Stephen Miller, President Trump's deputy chief of staff and one of the architects of his immigration policies, is no idiot. He's the product of one of the country's best public school systems and a graduate of Duke University. And since at least the ripe age of 16, he has been stewing about America's immigration policies. So, when Miller declared this month that the illegally deported Kilmar Abrego Garcia 'is not a 'Maryland man.' He is not a 'Maryland' anything,' one should assume that his words were deliberate and by design. Political analysts have suggested that Miller's comments — since echoed by the vice president, the White House press secretary and others — were primarily focused on drawing Democrats further into a spat about immigration and onto unfavorable political turf, but that's only half the picture. For all the madness of this administration and its actors, they are experts in the execution of the 'othering playbook.' At its core, it's as simple as centering a policy debate on an individual and then relentlessly defining that individual in a way that is politically beneficial. This helps to shift what is often a complicated policy debate to a discussion about an individual's character and identity. In this case, Miller's words make clear that Garcia isn't American. That's true (at least in a narrow definition), and for many that framing opens the door to questions about Garcia and how he is different from the mass of folks who define themselves as American. In this framing, Garcia is now 'other' — not just Salvadoran, but thanks to baseless claims of other administration officials, a gang member, a domestic abuser, a deadbeat father and so on. With every claim, Garcia becomes bigger and bigger and the policy of illegally deporting him smaller and smaller. If you doubt the power of this person-centric narrative approach, just think of all the laws that have been attached to the story of a person: Megan's Law, Jessica's Law and the recent Laken Riley Act. For Democrats, there is a warning in all of this, and they need to be careful not to fall into the same trap they have repeatedly. By fixating on one person, they narrow the argument to that individual and set the stage for value and policy judgements that revolve around the character and circumstances of an individual, as opposed to the broader circumstances. The question becomes not 'Do I support 'accidentally' deporting folks who are in the U.S. legally?' but 'Do I think Garcia deserves to be in the U.S.?' For most, the answer to that latter question is murkier, and it becomes ever more so as the administration paints an increasingly negative (albeit fictional) picture. Should Republicans insist on a debate anchored in the individual, then the objective should be to expand the playing field. For example, why not make this about Trump's inner circle? Melania Trump came to the United States in 1996 on a tourist visa, then obtained a series of H1-B work visas as a model before receiving a green card in 2001. The first lady then, presumably with the president's blessing, sponsored her parents' green card applications and they became naturalized U.S. citizens in New York in 2018. The vice president's in-laws also weren't born in the U.S. Radhakrishna Chilukuri and Lakshmi Chilukuri, second lady Usha Vance's parents, immigrated from India more than 40 years ago. Elsewhere in the administration, FBI Director Kash Patel's parents first moved from Uganda to Canada in the early 1970s to escape ethnic persecution under Idi Amin, before eventually settling in the U.S. The list goes on and on, and it includes DOGE czar Elon Musk, who is originally from South Africa but also holds Canadian citizenship. Opening the aperture forces everyone to ask the same questions about almost everyone, making the issue more universal to a broader audience identity. Science tells us we tend to favor our own social group members over others, and that we see our group as more human. Opponents should therefore be framing this issue so as many people see their own stake in this administration's illegal actions as possible. For example — because my great grandparents emigrated from Poland via Ellis Island, is my citizenship going to be questioned? What about the status of my mother, born in Germany but now a U.S. passport holder? The president's statements themselves have opened the door to these inquiries. In his meeting with El Salvador's president, Nayib Bukele, Trump said, 'we also have homegrown criminals … I'd like to include them in the group of people to get them out of the country. ' Given how loosely the president and his administration define who and what is 'criminal' and their proven disregard for the law, this is no empty threat — just consider all those who have been swept up already, a majority of whom are neither proven criminals and who have been denied due process. To come back to Miller and his worldview, it's fair to ask if Trump's definition wouldn't, in Miller's eyes, include the 12.8 million green card holders living in the U.S. or the 24.5 to 25 million naturalized U.S. citizens. Democrats would do well to force questions here — not by failing to defend Garcia or talking about his case, but by expanding the narrative to demonstrate how most Americans are tied in some way to an immigrant experience that is now qualifying folks to be 'mistakenly' deported.
