I recently featured a guest blogger who drew personal abuse from BLM protesters after Jordan Neely was killed. She raised accurate, hellish concerns over the mental health care system in New York City, but there is one thing I believe we are all missing here if we concentrate on points about homelessness and mental issues, no matter where you specify a problem area.
It is that, first and foremost, Jordan Neely should not be dead.
As a Christian, as a veteran, as one who knows and has known many people with serious mental illnesses, as a proud liberal, as a man who sees great trouble coming, I cannot in good conscience do anything except condemn the murder of Jordan Neely.
Ruled a homicide by the medical examiner who posted the body, this is a matter of the law and of justice. In the end, no matter what else we consider pertinent, Neely was murdered.
I get that he had a rap sheet a mile long, including some violent crimes. But the marine in question, who has not been named, couldn’t know that and even if he did, killing the man cannot be sufficiently defended.
Did the man intend to kill? I don’t know. I was not there and at any rate cannot read minds. But a look at his face in the photo tells me one thing: he did not need to engage in the restraint, and once the engagement was initiated, he was met with forceful resistance.
Whether death was accidental or not, that’s for a jury to decide. But I have to tell you, killing someone is serious when you believe that you are protecting others. You walk a line. It’d never have anything to do with being a good Samaritan. The line is between helping someone or being a vigilante. In this and every case of vigilantism, there’s a key word: murder.
Until a jury hears his testimony and that of any witnesses, I cannot pretend to know. If I gave an opinion, it would be premature and irresponsible.
I could do it. But this kind of analysis is way over my pay grade. It is not up to us to decide this case, or try it on social media or blogs.
I just know one thing:
Jordan Neely should not be dead.
Memoirs of an American Asshole 