In New York, we give judges enormous authority. They preside over disputes, determine guilt and innocence, and make decisions that can profoundly affect people’s lives. The public accepts that authority because we assume the person wearing the robe will exercise it with restraint, fairness, and a sense of responsibility.
But sometimes the robe gets used as a weapon.
That’s essentially what happened in Ulster County, where Town of Ulster Judge Susan Kesick was publicly censured by the New York State Commission on Judicial Conduct after an incident involving a dispute with a court clerk escalated far beyond what anyone would expect inside a courthouse.
According to the Commission’s findings, Kesick called police to the courthouse in an attempt to have a court clerk removed from the building during a workplace dispute. The situation didn’t end there. Investigators found that she later attempted to have the clerk fired, turning what should have been an administrative personnel issue into a misuse of judicial authority.
The Commission concluded that her behavior contributed to a hostile workplace environment and improperly invoked the power of the bench to resolve a personal conflict.
The penalty: public censure.
That means Judge Kesick remains on the bench, but the misconduct is now part of the public record — a formal rebuke issued by the state body responsible for policing judicial behavior.
Still, the larger issue goes well beyond one courthouse or one judge.
Town and village courts across New York are the front door of the justice system. For many residents, the only judge they will ever see in person sits in one of these local courts. When a judge in that system appears to use the power of the robe to intimidate or retaliate against staff, it damages confidence in the institution itself.
Judges, like anyone else, can have disagreements with coworkers. Courtrooms are stressful environments. Personalities clash.
But judges hold the unique authority of the state.
Calling the police because of a workplace dispute with a clerk isn’t exercising judicial leadership — it’s an abuse of the leverage that comes with the position.
The robe is supposed to represent calm judgment, not personal grievance.
And that distinction matters.
Public confidence in institutions is already fragile. From Albany to Washington, people increasingly believe that those in positions of authority operate under a different set of rules than everyone else.
When a judge uses the power of the bench to escalate a personal dispute, it feeds exactly that perception.
Justice requires power. But it also requires humility.
Because the moment the bench begins to look like a bully’s pulpit, the public starts to question whether justice is still the goal — or whether authority has simply become another tool for settling personal scores.
And that’s a problem no censure alone can fix.
The Valley Viewpoint 