A Valley Viewpoint Narrative
Every now and then, a story cuts through the political fog and reminds us why public trust isn’t lost in a single moment — it’s eroded drip-by-drip. This week, that drip came from the Brooklyn courthouse, where the supposed guardians of justice are meant to stand above the political hustle.
The report? Judge Lawrence Knipel, the former administrative judge of Kings County Supreme Court, allegedly handed out 881 court appointments — guardianships, receiverships, lucrative fiduciary roles — to just 25 attorneys over a three-year span. These weren’t random selections from a transparent merit-based pool.
No — many of those lucky recipients were contributors to political committees tied to Knipel’s wife, Lori Knipel, a Brooklyn Democratic district leader.
Let me say that again: lawyers donate to the judge’s spouse’s political operation… and soon find themselves appointed to some of the most financially rewarding court posts in New York’s legal system. A revolving door? No — this was a VIP entrance reserved for those who knew where to write the check.
Guardianship appointments — the kind of cases where the court entrusts a lawyer with managing the affairs of vulnerable elderly or incapacitated individuals — are supposed to be about trust, objectivity, and protection. Instead, they may have become a form of currency in a political patronage market disguised as judicial discretion.
We’ve long known New York’s party machines still breathe. But when the judiciary — the last refuge for the ordinary citizen — starts to look like a family franchise, that’s not just insider politics. That’s a breach of the public trust.
And let’s be clear: if this were happening in a sheriff’s office in Dutchess or a town hall in Ulster County, there would already be cameras, subpoenas, and a parade of officials swearing, “This is not who we are.”
But in the insulated world of New York City Democratic politics — where judicial nominations are brokered in back rooms and reform commissions have all the bite of a defanged housecat — the machine keeps humming.
Because nothing protects corruption like one-party comfort and a culture immune to shame.
The judiciary is supposed to be the great equalizer. For the pro-se litigant walking into court with nothing but a folder and hope. For the elderly parent whose future depends on an honest guardian. For the citizen who believes — still — that the law belongs to everyone.
Instead, we get a courthouse that looks suspiciously like a patronage bank for those with the right friends and the right fundraiser RSVP list.
The People of New York deserve better. Transparency. Competition. Scrutiny. A judiciary that earns respect — not trades it for campaign checks.
If the courts won’t clean their own house, then it’s time the public — and the press — keep pulling back the curtain. Because sunlight isn’t just disinfectant; in New York’s courthouse culture, it may be the last remaining antidote.
Justice cannot survive as a family business. Not here. Not anywhere.
The Valley Viewpoint 