The Valley Viewpoint

By Ed Kowalski | Valley Viewpoint

For more than a hundred years, America’s largest law firms have operated under a business model that, quite frankly, most other industries could only dream of.

Hire the best and brightest young attorneys, put them to work for extraordinarily long hours, charge clients substantial hourly fees, and reward the partners at the top with an increasingly generous share of the profits.

It was a pretty good arrangement. At least for the law firms.

But as a recent article in The Economist points out, that century-old business model is undergoing a transformation. And from my perspective, having spent much of my professional career in human resources, corporate management, and risk management, I would suggest that this transformation is long overdue.

What interests me most isn’t simply the impact of artificial intelligence on the legal profession. It’s the fact that an industry that has spent generations advising businesses on how to operate is now being forced to take a hard look at how it operates itself.

And that, I believe, is where the real story begins.

The Billable Hour: A Business Model That Defies Common Sense

Think about this for a moment.

In virtually every other industry, management is expected to find ways to become more efficient. Companies invest in technology, streamline operations, reduce unnecessary costs, and look for ways to deliver better products and services with fewer resources.

That’s what good management is supposed to do.

Yet for decades, the traditional law firm has operated under a system where spending more time on a project often generates more revenue.

An attorney who spends twenty hours researching an issue can potentially bill ten times what another attorney charges for resolving the same issue in two hours.

Where exactly is the incentive for efficiency?

Now, I’m certainly not suggesting that all legal work is the same or that experienced attorneys shouldn’t be compensated for their expertise. Quite the contrary. Good legal counsel can be invaluable, particularly when an organization is facing significant financial, employment, or regulatory exposure.

But there’s a difference between paying for expertise and paying for the time it takes someone to demonstrate that expertise.

And I suspect more corporate clients are beginning to recognize that distinction.

Artificial Intelligence Is About to Change the Rules

Artificial intelligence is already demonstrating that many of the tasks traditionally assigned to junior attorneys can be completed much more quickly with the assistance of technology.

Contract reviews, document analysis, legal research, and the preparation of routine legal materials are all areas where AI is beginning to change the economics of legal services.

Consider the implications.

If a law firm previously assigned several associates to review hundreds of documents over the course of a week, and technology can now assist in completing that work in a matter of hours, what happens to the bill?

More importantly, what happens to the business model that depended on all those billable hours?

That’s the uncomfortable question facing Big Law.

And I would suggest that the answer shouldn’t be to find another way to charge the client the same amount of money.

It should be to recognize that the value of professional services needs to be measured by the quality of the outcome, not simply the number of hours recorded on a timesheet.

The Client Should Come First. Imagine That.

Throughout my career, I’ve worked with outside legal counsel on employment matters, employee benefits, regulatory compliance, litigation, and organizational risk.

I’ve also seen firsthand how quickly legal expenses can accumulate, particularly when multiple attorneys become involved in what initially appeared to be a relatively straightforward matter.

Sometimes that involvement is absolutely necessary.

Other times, you can’t help but wonder whether the process has become more complicated and expensive than the underlying problem warranted.

And therein lies one of the challenges facing the legal profession.

Corporate clients are under enormous pressure to manage costs. Human resources departments, finance executives, and business owners are expected to justify expenditures and demonstrate a return on investment.

Why should outside legal services be treated any differently?

A company retaining legal counsel isn’t looking to purchase fifty hours of someone’s time. It’s looking for an answer, a solution, or protection from a potential liability.

That’s what the client is paying for.

The law firms that understand this will have a significant advantage over those that continue to believe their reputation alone justifies their fees.

There’s Also a People Problem

One aspect of this transformation that I find particularly interesting involves the future development of attorneys themselves.

For generations, large law firms have operated on what is essentially an apprenticeship model.

Young associates spend years conducting research, reviewing documents, drafting agreements, and supporting senior attorneys before developing the experience necessary to handle more complex legal matters.

But what happens when technology begins performing much of that entry-level work?

Where do young attorneys gain their experience?

How does a firm develop its next generation of partners when many of the traditional opportunities to learn the profession are disappearing?

From an HR perspective, this is a significant workforce planning issue.

Technology may eliminate certain tasks, but it doesn’t eliminate the need to develop judgment, professional relationships, negotiating skills, and an understanding of how businesses actually operate.

Those abilities come from experience.

Law firms will need to rethink how they recruit, train, compensate, and develop their people. And they may discover that simply hiring graduates from prestigious law schools isn’t a substitute for having a meaningful professional development strategy.

That’s something corporate America has understood for quite some time.

The Partners May Be the Biggest Obstacle

There’s another issue that deserves attention.

Organizational change is difficult enough under normal circumstances. It’s even more difficult when the individuals responsible for making those changes are the same people who have benefited enormously from the existing system.

And let’s face it, the traditional law firm partnership has been very good to those who reach the top.

Why would a successful equity partner enthusiastically embrace a business model that could reduce the revenue generated by the firm’s associates or require substantial investments in technology and new operating systems?

It’s a legitimate management challenge.

But it’s also one that businesses in other industries have confronted repeatedly.

Successful organizations don’t wait until their existing business model collapses before recognizing the need to change.

They anticipate what’s coming and adapt accordingly.

The legal profession would be wise to do the same.

Good Legal Counsel Will Always Have Value

I don’t believe for a moment that artificial intelligence is going to eliminate the need for talented attorneys.

There will always be a demand for experienced legal professionals who understand complex business transactions, litigation, labor and employment law, regulatory compliance, and the countless legal issues confronting employers and individuals.

In fact, I would argue that the increasing complexity of our regulatory environment makes good legal counsel more important than ever.

But the real value of an attorney isn’t how many hours can be billed.

It’s the ability to understand a client’s problem, exercise sound judgment, identify potential exposure, and recommend a practical course of action.

Having spent years managing organizational risk, I’ve always believed that the best legal advice is often the advice that prevents a problem from becoming litigation in the first place.

Unfortunately, prevention doesn’t always generate the same legal fees as defending a lawsuit.

And perhaps that’s another part of the profession’s economic structure that deserves reconsideration.

A Final Thought

What we’re witnessing in Big Law is really part of a much broader transformation taking place across American business.

Technology is changing how work gets done. Clients and consumers are demanding greater value. Organizations are being forced to reconsider staffing models, compensation structures, and longstanding operating practices.

The legal profession is simply discovering that it isn’t exempt from those pressures.

And while the transformation may be uncomfortable for some of the country’s most prestigious and profitable law firms, I believe it has the potential to produce a better system for everyone involved.

Better use of technology. More transparent pricing. Greater accountability. More efficient delivery of legal services. And perhaps a renewed emphasis on the relationship between an attorney and the client being served.

None of those seem like unreasonable expectations.

For years, attorneys have advised corporate executives that failing to adapt to changing business conditions can expose their organizations to significant risk.

Perhaps it’s time for the legal profession to take some of its own advice.

Because at the end of the day, a law firm is still a business. And no business, regardless of its prestige, history, or profitability, has an unlimited right to operate the way it always has.

The marketplace eventually has the final say.

And Big Law may finally be learning that lesson.

A Valley Viewpoint Narrative

Thirteen girls from Camas High School’s cross-country team reached the starting line and made a choice: they would not pretend the race was fair.

When the gun sounded, they walked away.

The girls were protesting the participation of a Camas athlete who had competed in the boys’ division earlier in the season, then switched to the girls’ division under Washington’s eligibility rules. At the October 13 meet against Battle Ground, roughly half the Camas girls chose not to run. They made their point peacefully, visibly and at real cost to themselves. 

That is not a stunt. It is not hatred. It is a refusal to accept a rule that, in their view, makes a mockery of girls’ competition.

Girls’ sports exist because female athletes deserve a fair field of their own. They deserve the chance to compete for places, recognition and records against other girls. When an athlete who began the season racing in the boys’ division moves into girls’ competition, the girls affected by that decision have every right to ask whether the rules still protect their opportunity.

Instead of answering that question, too many adults reach for labels. They call the girls cruel, intolerant or bigoted. That is an easy way to avoid confronting what the athletes are actually saying: We don’t believe this is fair, and we won’t pretend that it is.

The Camas School District says it must follow state law and Washington Interscholastic Activities Association rules. That explains the policy the school is applying. It does not prove the policy is fair. Rules are written by people, and people can write rules that need to change. 

The girls did not need adults to speak for them. They spoke for themselves. They walked off the course, and the argument followed them into the open.

Now the adults who make the rules—and the voters who will decide Washington’s Initiative 638 on November 3—must answer a basic question: will girls’ sports be organized around protecting female athletes’ fair opportunity, or will girls be expected to accept whatever eligibility policy officials impose and call that fairness? 

Those Camas runners should be heard, not shamed. They stood up for the purpose of girls’ sports, and they did it without violence or intimidation. The adults in charge can disagree with them. But they cannot honestly say the issue has gone away.

The girls walked away from one race. The bigger question is whether the people running the system are willing to face what they were protesting.

Accountability Is Not a Deterrence Campaign

There is a real difference between holding public officials accountable for proven misconduct and warning future public servants that taking a job under the other party could bring them “a ton of problems.” At the University of Chicago, Senator Elissa Slotkin blurred that line herself.

Slotkin said Democrats should pursue a handful of “signature cases” involving what she described as egregious corruption by people who enabled President Trump. That, by itself, is a legitimate subject for debate. No president’s staff should be immune from investigation when there is credible evidence of a crime. Slotkin also acknowledged that cases should focus on particular conduct, not simply on Trump’s political opponents. 

But she went further. She said she wanted the prospect of legal trouble to deter young people from joining the Trump administration. That is the troubling part—not because officials should be shielded from lawful scrutiny, but because prosecution is supposed to respond to evidence of a crime. It should not become a political instrument for making government service under the opposing party seem too dangerous to pursue.

The distinction matters. If a person commits a crime, investigate the evidence, apply the law, and let the process run. If the goal is to make a whole category of prospective employees afraid to serve, the message reaches people who have done nothing wrong. Slotkin’s “deterrence” language was not merely an interpretation imposed by her critics; it was her stated objective. 

That creates an uncomfortable tension with the rest of her appearance. Slotkin called for ethics reforms and safeguards against abuses of power, saying the rules should prevent any president from abusing the system. Those principles matter. But they must apply when the political roles are reversed, too. A democracy cannot defend itself by making criminal investigation sound like a tool for disciplining the other party’s supporters.

Critics have called the remarks a threat of political prosecution. That goes beyond what she explicitly said: Slotkin did not identify specific people to charge, and she framed her proposal around cases of alleged egregious conduct. Still, the concern is grounded in her own words. When a senator says future prosecutions should send a warning to people considering public service, the question is no longer only who might have broken the law. It is whether fear of prosecution is being treated as a political strategy.

Accountability requires evidence, specific charges and due process. Deterrence aimed at a person’s choice to serve a lawful administration risks something else: turning the justice system into a warning sign posted at the door of public service. 

In May, Kathy Hochul signed laws that sharply restrict how New York’s local police, sheriffs, and jails can assist federal authorities with civil immigration enforcement. The package bars 287(g) agreements and limits the use of local detention facilities for federal immigration purposes. 

Hochul says this keeps local police focused on local crimes. But when Albany blocks local agencies from helping federal authorities enforce immigration law, it can make coordination harder—including when someone in custody has a criminal record. New Yorkers deserve a straight answer: why should local officials face state restrictions for cooperating with federal authorities on immigration enforcement?

The package also tried to ban federal agents from wearing masks. A federal judge has blocked enforcement of that provision against federal officers, including ICE agents. 

Hochul’s defenders call these laws protections. Critics see a state government tying the hands of local law enforcement and making it harder for ICE to take custody of people subject to immigration proceedings. That is a public-safety gamble—and Hochul owns it.

This package was signed months ago, so it isn’t breaking news. But the consequences of Hochul’s choices are still worth confronting. New Yorkers should not have to accept less cooperation, less accountability, and more risk because Albany wants to score points against ICE.

An endorsement should mean something. It should tell voters what we value and what we expect from the people asking for their trust.

For The Valley Viewpoint, the standard is straightforward: responsible spending, lower pressure on taxpayers, public safety, respect for constitutional rights, honest government and practical results. We want elected officials who understand that government works for the public—not for the politicians who happen to hold office.

That is why, in the Nov. 3 general election, we endorse the following candidates in the federal and state races serving the Hudson Valley, and in the Dutchess and Putnam County contests listed below.

Federal

For Congress, we endorse:

• NY-17: Mike Lawler
• NY-18: Jackie Mary Auringer
• NY-19: Peter K. Oberacker

These districts connect communities across the Hudson Valley, but voters share familiar concerns: the cost of living, public safety, federal spending and whether elected officials are listening to the people they represent. We believe these candidates offer the strongest case for a change in direction and a check on one-party thinking. (elections.ny.gov) (elections.ny.gov, elections.ny.gov)

Statewide

For governor and lieutenant governor, we endorse Bruce Blakeman and Todd Hood.

For state comptroller, we endorse Joseph Hernandez. For attorney general, we endorse Saritha Komatireddy.

New York needs leadership willing to confront the cost of government and explain where public money is going. The state’s persistent affordability problems deserve more than speeches and election-year promises. Voters should demand a serious effort to restrain spending, protect public safety and make state government answerable to the people paying the bills. (elections.ny.gov)

State Senate

We endorse the following candidates in Hudson Valley Senate districts:

• District 34: Adrian Romero
• District 35: Anthony J. Merante
• District 36: Grace Marrero
• District 37: Thomas H. Fix Jr.
• District 38: Bill Weber
• District 39: Robert G. Rolison
• District 40: Sergio J. Esposito
• District 41: Patrick Sheehan
• District 42: Jennifer R. Figueroa
• District 51: Christopher W. Tague

Albany needs more debate, more scrutiny and less automatic deference to the leadership of whichever party is in charge. These are the candidates we believe are best positioned to press for affordability, public safety and accountable government in the communities they would represent. (elections.ny.gov, elections.ny.gov, elections.ny.gov, elections.ny.gov)

State Assembly

We endorse these candidates in Hudson Valley Assembly districts:

• District 90: John Isaac
• District 92: Bob Welch
• District 93: Braille Diaz
• District 94: Matthew J. Slater
• District 95: Laurie Ryan
• District 96: Brett L. Yagel
• District 97: Rob Bonomolo
• District 98: Karl A. Brabenec
• District 99: Richard A. Vargus
• District 101: Brian M. Maher
• District 102: Marcus Molinaro
• District 103: Santos Lopez
• District 105: Anil R. Beephan Jr.
• District 106: Gregory Campus

The Assembly should be a place where lawmakers test proposals against their cost and consequences—not a rubber stamp for Albany’s political class. We endorse these candidates because the Hudson Valley needs representatives prepared to challenge policies that make it harder for families, workers and small businesses to get ahead. (elections.ny.gov, elections.ny.gov, elections.ny.gov)

Dutchess County

For Dutchess County sheriff, we endorse Kirk Imperati.

For Dutchess County Legislature, we endorse:

• District 1: Robert V. Gorman
• District 2: Anne Burger
• District 3: Michael Polasek
• District 5: Tony D’Aquanni
• District 7: Lew Darrow
• District 9: Aaron P. Scott
• District 10: Shanta A. Persad Saeteros
• District 12: John Metzger
• District 13: Kevin M. Giles
• District 14: Lynne Miele-Versaci
• District 15: Robert S. Faust
• District 17: Doug A.A. McHoul
• District 21: Stephen M. Caswell
• District 22: Joseph Tresca
• District 23: Chris Rolison
• District 24: Andrew J. House
• District 25: Stefanie W. Hubert

County government is where decisions about spending, services and oversight have a direct effect on daily life. We want legislators who will take those responsibilities seriously, ask hard questions and keep the focus on residents rather than political theater. (elections.dutchessny.gov)

Putnam County

For county executive, we endorse Kevin Byrne.

We also endorse Michael C. Bartolotti for county clerk; Michael J. Nesheiwat and John F. Bourges for the two county coroner positions; and these candidates for Putnam County Legislature:

• District 2: Christian J. Russo
• District 3: Joseph Cunningham
• District 8: Tanner McCracken

Putnam deserves steady leadership, careful stewardship of taxpayer dollars and decisions made with the county’s long-term interests in mind. These endorsements reflect our belief that local government should be transparent, responsible and focused on the people who live here. (boe.putnamcountyny.gov)

No candidate should mistake an endorsement for a blank check. Voters should expect answers, demand transparency and hold elected officials accountable after Election Day. The Valley Viewpoint’s endorsements are a starting point for that conversation—not a substitute for it.

New York’s general election is Tuesday, Nov. 3. Early voting runs Oct. 24 through Nov. 1. Check your county Board of Elections for your ballot and polling location. (boe.putnamcountyny.gov, hudsonvalley.news12.com)

New York City politicians have found a familiar way to announce that they are helping working people: pass a bill that could put those people out of work.

Mayor Zohran Mamdani supports the proposed Delivery Protection Act, which would require Amazon and other companies to directly employ thousands of delivery workers now hired through independent delivery businesses. Supporters say the change would improve pay, safety, and accountability. Those are legitimate concerns. Delivery workers deserve safe conditions and fair treatment.

But good intentions don’t erase consequences.

Amazon says the bill could force it to move its last-mile delivery operations outside the city. The New York Post reports that the change could put more than 5,000 delivery jobs and another 2,000 warehouse jobs at risk, while also threatening the local businesses that employ those workers. Amazon’s warning is not proof that every threatened job will disappear. But it is a risk City Hall has to take seriously before it changes the rules. (nypost.com)

These aren’t just numbers on a spreadsheet. They’re drivers, warehouse workers, and owners of small delivery companies trying to make a living. Some of those businesses say they would have no way to operate under the bill as written. If the law eliminates the companies that employ people today, what exactly is the plan for those workers tomorrow?

Amazon is hardly a disinterested source. The company has a clear financial stake in keeping its current model. But politicians also have a stake: they get to claim they stood up to a powerful corporation. The people caught between those two forces are the workers and local business owners who may bear the cost.

The bill could also make deliveries slower and more expensive. Amazon points to a company-funded study estimating an extra $664 a year for New York households. That figure should be treated as an interested estimate, not a settled fact. Still, the broader question is real: if a policy raises operating costs, who ultimately pays? It may be the customer, the worker whose job is displaced, or the small business forced to close. (nypost.com)

If the current system is unsafe or unfair, City Hall should address those problems directly. Set clear safety standards. Enforce existing labor laws. Make sure workers have a meaningful way to raise concerns. But don’t pretend that forcing one employment structure on an entire industry carries no cost—and don’t call it worker protection if the result may be fewer jobs and fewer businesses.

The bill has strong support, but no vote is scheduled, and possible compromises are being discussed. That gives the Council time to hear from the workers, contractors, and small-business owners who will live with the consequences. (nypost.com)

Before City Hall votes to “protect” these workers, it should answer one plain question: How many of them will still have a job if this bill passes?

A Valley Viewpoint Narrative
Commentary by Ed Kowalski

Albany loves the word affordability. It appears in speeches, press releases, campaign ads, and budget announcements. But New Yorkers don’t pay their bills with speeches. They pay them with money they worked hard to earn.

And the numbers tell a story Albany would rather talk around.

New York’s all-funds spending has climbed from roughly $212 billion in the FY2022 budget to estimates approaching $277 billion today—an increase of about $65 billion, or roughly 31 percent. The starting budget was enacted before Kathy Hochul became governor, but she has led the state through much of that spending growth. Taxpayers deserve a clear answer: What have we received for all that additional money? 

The Citizens Budget Commission’s latest comparison puts New York first in state and local taxes collected per resident—about 71 percent above the national average. That figure is not quite double, as some claims suggest. It is still an extraordinary burden, especially for families watching their paychecks disappear into taxes, fees, and rising costs. 

Democrats have dominated Albany for most of the past two decades. To my Democrat friends: At what point do you look at these numbers and ask whether the party you’ve supported is still delivering for you? Where is the payoff?

And while we’re talking about affordability, we should talk honestly about illegal immigration, too. Albany has a responsibility to be transparent about the public cost of services provided to migrants and people who entered the country illegally. What is the state spending, where is that money coming from, and what services are being stretched to cover it? Those are fair questions—especially when New York families are struggling to afford housing, healthcare, and taxes of their own.

New York ranks last in economic freedom in the Cato Institute’s latest index. That ranking does not settle every argument about state policy, but it should make Albany stop and think. Instead, we get another promise that the next program, mandate, or spending increase will finally make life more affordable. 

Then there is the disconnect between Albany’s performance and Albany’s compensation. New York lawmakers earn a $142,000 base salary, among the highest in the country. New Yorkers are entitled to ask whether the results justify the paycheck—particularly when household costs keep rising and the state remains near the bottom on economic freedom. 

Energy costs show the problem clearly. New York’s electricity prices have been reported at 62 percent above the national average. Utilities have a role in setting rates, but Albany also sets policy. Taxes, fees, regulations, and energy mandates can all affect what customers pay. If state leaders want to talk seriously about affordability, they should examine the costs their own decisions add to the bill. 

Here in the Hudson Valley, people feel those choices in practical ways: the electric bill, the property-tax bill, the cost of running a small business, and the growing difficulty of staying in the community where you grew up. These aren’t abstract numbers. They shape whether a family can make ends meet and whether a local employer can afford to hire.

So when Albany advertises a tax cut, read the whole bill. A lower rate in one place can be offset by a new fee, surcharge, or mandate somewhere else. It can feel like a game of tax whack-a-mole: one charge goes down while another quietly appears.

New Yorkers should benchmark this state against the rest of the country and ask what all this spending has delivered. Democrats who care about working families should be willing to ask that question, too. Party loyalty should never mean giving Albany a blank check.

Affordability is not a slogan. It is the money left after the bills are paid. By that measure, Albany has a lot to answer for.

A Valley Viewpoint Narrative
By Ed Kowalski

In the only debate of New York’s governor’s race, Bruce Blakeman did what a challenger has to do: he put Kathy Hochul’s record on the table and made her answer for it.

He pressed her on soaring utility costs, public safety and immigration enforcement—issues New Yorkers feel in their own homes and communities. Hochul’s response too often seemed to be that Donald Trump was to blame. But voters aren’t choosing a governor to deliver a running commentary on Washington. They’re choosing someone to lead New York.

Blakeman’s strongest moments came when he brought the debate back to the cost of living. He challenged Hochul over rising utility bills and her election-year rebate, arguing that a small check doesn’t erase years of higher costs. That’s a point New Yorkers understand without a focus group: when the bills keep climbing, a one-time rebate feels less like relief than an acknowledgment that something has gone wrong.

He also challenged the governor over sanctuary policies and public safety. A state can enforce immigration law while treating people humanely. But compassion cannot mean looking away when serious criminals are involved, and local law enforcement should be able to work with federal authorities to protect the public.

The Post’s panel was divided over who won the debate, and Blakeman gave his critics an opening when he called Trump a friend. But the important question is whether he showed voters that he can stand on his own and make the case for a different direction. On the issues that matter most to families—affordability, energy and safety—he did.

Hochul has been governor. She owns the record. Blakeman is asking voters to give him the chance to change it.

New Yorkers don’t need another campaign built around who the candidates know or dislike. They need a governor focused on the people paying the bills, raising families and trying to build a future here. In this debate, Blakeman made that case more clearly. 

A Valley Viewpoint Narrative
By Ed Kowalski

A political candidate can tell you a great deal about her priorities in a single sentence.

In the aftermath of the Bronx ICE shooting, congressional candidate Darializa Avila Chevalier reportedly said that Oscar Belgal’s criminal record “doesn’t matter.” Belgal was shot during an attempted arrest. He was in a car with his five-year-old son, and the circumstances of the shooting deserve a full, impartial investigation. But the question of whether the shooting was justified is separate from whether a serious criminal record matters to public safety and immigration enforcement. Of course it does. 

That distinction should not be difficult. We can demand answers about how federal agents conducted an operation while also acknowledging that a record of serious offenses matters when authorities decide whom to arrest and whether someone should remain in the country. Accountability for law enforcement and accountability for people accused or convicted of crimes are not competing principles.

I’ve spent time working with unaccompanied minors, and I know immigration debates involve real people, families and difficult circumstances. Compassion matters. So does the safety of the neighbors who live beside someone accused of terrorizing them. The New York Post reported that Belgal had a prior armed-robbery conviction, drug-related charges and neighbors who described being frightened by him. Those reports should be examined carefully, and allegations should not be casually treated as proven facts. But a candidate who says a criminal record “doesn’t matter” is telling the public that these details carry no weight in her judgment. 

The public also deserves a clear account of the shooting itself. Reuters reported that federal officials said Belgal’s vehicle threatened officers, while the account of what happened remained contested. That is exactly why investigators should establish the facts before politicians declare the officers guilty or the shooting justified. 

But uncertainty about the shooting does not erase the larger policy question. When government officials resist cooperation over people with serious criminal histories, they owe the public an honest explanation of the risks and consequences. “Sanctuary” cannot become a magic word that ends the debate. And concern for an immigrant’s rights cannot mean indifference to the people who may have been harmed or frightened by his alleged conduct.

The words “our neighbor” can express a generous belief that every person deserves dignity. They can also be used to soften the reality that neighbors have a right to feel safe in their own community. A five-year-old child in the back seat deserves compassion. So do the residents who say they feared the man authorities were trying to arrest. The principle should be simple: protect everyone, investigate the use of force, and take serious criminal conduct seriously.

If a candidate wants public office, she should be able to hold all of those ideas at once. When she says the record “doesn’t matter,” voters are entitled to ask whose safety she believes should matter most.

A Valley Viewpoint Narrative
By Ed Kowalski

I believe in accountability. I believe the law has to mean something, and that people who commit terrible crimes must face the consequences. Nidal Hasan was convicted of murdering 13 people at Fort Hood. Nothing about this argument diminishes the horror of what he did or the grief carried by the victims’ families.

But I don’t believe the government should livestream his execution.

The Pentagon says it plans to carry out Hasan’s sentence by firing squad on December 3 and broadcast it. President Trump has since said the final decision about a livestream is his. Legal experts say the proposal raises unresolved questions, including whether a public broadcast would violate Army rules or the constitutional ban on cruel and unusual punishment.

I’ve spent years around employment law and the justice system. I’ve seen how much depends on whether institutions follow rules and treat human beings with basic dignity. I’ve also learned that accountability can be serious without becoming a performance. The state has the power to punish. That power comes with a responsibility to show restraint.

A livestream would not make Hasan’s sentence more lawful, more final or more just. It would make his death a spectacle—an execution staged for an audience under the banner of deterrence. If the government wants to explain the consequences of murder, it can do so without putting a person’s death on a screen.

I know some people will say, “He deserves it.” That may be their sincere view. But the question isn’t whether Hasan deserves sympathy. It’s what kind of government we want to be when the condemned person is someone almost everyone despises. Principles matter most when it would be easiest to set them aside.

The victims and their families deserve remembrance, justice and the space to grieve. They should not have to watch their loss turned into political theater. Nor should the government confuse public access with public entertainment.

Carry out the sentence through a lawful process, if that is what the law requires. But don’t livestream it. The government can demonstrate the seriousness of justice without inviting the country to watch a man die.

Most people who come to this country without authorization are not violent criminals. Many are working to support themselves and their families. That does not excuse breaking immigration law. And it should never require us to look away when someone here unlawfully commits a horrific crime.

The victims deserve to be remembered by name.

In 2007, three Delaware State University students—Iofemi Hightower, Dashon Harvey and Terrance Aeriel—were murdered in a Newark schoolyard. A fourth student, Natasha Aeriel, survived after being shot and assaulted. One of the defendants, Jose Carranza, was an undocumented immigrant who was out on bail in another case when the attack happened.

There was Min Chang, an 18-year-old freshman at UNC Charlotte, killed by a drunk driver who had entered the country unlawfully and had a prior DWI conviction. There was Matthew Denice, a 23-year-old Massachusetts motorcyclist killed when an undocumented driver, drunk and driving without a license, struck him and dragged him beneath his truck.

There was Sarah Root, a 21-year-old Nebraska woman killed in a crash involving Eswin Mejia, who was charged with vehicular homicide, released on bond and fled the country. In 2025, he was extradited from Honduras to face those charges.

There was Laken Riley, a 22-year-old nursing student murdered while out for a run at the University of Georgia. Jose Ibarra was convicted of her murder and sentenced to life in prison. And there was Rachel Morin, a 37-year-old mother of five, raped and murdered on a Maryland hiking trail. Victor Martinez-Hernandez was convicted and sentenced to life without parole.

And there was Sheridan Gorman, an 18-year-old from Yorktown Heights and a Loyola University Chicago freshman. She was walking with friends near campus when she was fatally shot. Jose Medina has been charged with first-degree murder; the Department of Homeland Security says he is an undocumented immigrant from Venezuela.

In the Bronx, Claretha LaQuesha Daniels and Justin Lawless were killed in a 2024 shooting. Four members of Tren de Aragua later pleaded guilty to their murders.

Every one of these names belongs to a family whose life was changed forever. These cases do not prove that immigrants as a group are dangerous, and they cannot tell us how often undocumented immigrants commit crimes. They do show why enforcement failures matter: when people who have been deported, arrested or convicted are allowed to remain or return without consequence, the results can be devastating.

We should also be precise about crime statistics. The government does not have one complete national accounting of crimes categorized by an offender’s immigration status. A recent Government Accountability Office report describes gaps in the available incarceration data, including limits in what state and local jurisdictions report. Sweeping claims about comparative crime rates require evidence the country does not consistently collect.

But uncertainty about national numbers does not erase individual cases—or excuse officials who fail to enforce the law. We can recognize that most immigrants are not violent criminals while still insisting that immigration laws mean something, that serious offenders are not released or allowed to return without consequence, and that grieving families are not dismissed as political props.

I welcome legal immigration. Our country has been strengthened by generations of people who came here, followed the process and built lives for their families. But a nation of laws must enforce its laws fairly and consistently. Calling every demand for enforcement “racist” or “xenophobic” shuts down debate; it does nothing for public safety or for the victims’ families.

Remember their names. Then ask the government to do its job.

A camera under a woman’s desk. A supervisor who had power over her at work. Photographs taken without her knowledge.

Call it what it was: a calculated violation of a woman’s privacy by the man who was supposed to lead her department.

Former Pleasant Valley Highway Superintendent John Baxter was sentenced to 60 days in the Dutchess County Jail after being convicted of two misdemeanor counts of attempted unlawful surveillance. He must report by November 1. The camera was discovered beneath his secretary’s desk at the Highway Department. Investigators later recovered images from Baxter’s phone, which he had deleted.

The word “upskirting” can make this sound like a crude joke or a passing lapse in judgment. It was neither. It was secret surveillance in a workplace, aimed at an employee who had every right to feel safe at her desk.

At sentencing, Beth Ann Mona’s statement described the damage: fear, anger, betrayal, and a daily struggle to regain a sense of normalcy. During the trial, the defense focused on what she wore and the words she used to describe what happened. That approach did not weaken the case against Baxter. It compounded the harm to the woman who had already been violated.

The probation report said Baxter showed no signs of remorse or responsibility. Then, in court, he said he never meant to hurt her. But remorse is more than a sentence delivered at the moment a judge is about to impose punishment. And “I didn’t mean to hurt her” does not answer the central question: why was a hidden camera under her desk in the first place?

His wife and a neighbor asked for leniency. His lawyer argued that Baxter had lost a great deal. That may be true. But sympathy for the consequences he now faces cannot be allowed to eclipse the woman who had to endure the violation, the trial, and the public scrutiny that followed.

Baxter once held an elected office and authority over a town employee. That makes this a matter of public trust, not private embarrassment. The town reported the discovery to the Dutchess County Sheriff’s Office, and Baxter resigned after his conviction. Those steps were necessary. They do not make the damage disappear.

Sixty days in jail is the sentence. Whether it is enough is for the victim and the community to judge. But no one should confuse a court-imposed sentence with a clean slate. The case should leave Pleasant Valley with a harder question: what safeguards make it possible for employees to report abuse by someone who holds power over them—and know they will be protected?

Public office is a public trust. When an official abuses that trust, accountability cannot end with his resignation or a short stay in jail. The person harmed should not be left carrying the consequences alone.