For more than two years, I have been writing about judicial accountability, judicial arrogance, and the often-overlooked struggles faced by citizens who find themselves at the mercy of a legal system that appears unwilling to police its own.
My interest in the subject is not academic.
It is personal.
For more than two years, judicial misconduct complaints I filed against U.S. District Judge Victor A. Bolden have remained pending within the federal judiciary’s disciplinary process. During that time, I have received no meaningful resolution, no public explanation, and no indication that the concerns raised have been subjected to the level of scrutiny that ordinary citizens would expect from a system dedicated to transparency and accountability.
It is against that backdrop that I read the recent report from The National Law Journal concerning a federal judge who engaged in an affair with a police officer and allegedly made false statements during a judicial misconduct investigation. Despite findings that have raised serious concerns among legal scholars, the judge received only a private reprimand.
The reaction from many observers was predictable.
The reaction from those of us who have spent years navigating the judicial misconduct process was something else entirely.
It was recognition.
Recognition of a system that too often appears more interested in protecting institutional reputation than confronting institutional failure.
According to legal scholar Arthur Hellman, the Judicial Conference possesses the authority under federal law to refer a judge to the House of Representatives when impeachment may be warranted. Hellman suggested that a judge who makes false statements during an official investigation presents exactly the kind of conduct that deserves serious consideration.
Yet the sanction imposed was private.
The public is left to wonder whether accountability means something different when the person accused of misconduct wears a black robe.
That question has become increasingly difficult to ignore.
My own judicial misconduct complaints arose from the proceedings involving my daughter, Jennifer Kowalski, in Prudential Insurance Company of America v. Kowalski in the United States District Court for the District of Connecticut.
In those complaints, I raised concerns about what I viewed as significant due process failures, the treatment of a pro se litigant confronting a multibillion-dollar corporation, and judicial decisions that ultimately resulted in civil confinement. I questioned whether fundamental constitutional protections were afforded and whether the extraordinary powers exercised by the court were matched by the extraordinary caution such powers require.
Reasonable people may disagree with my conclusions.
But what should concern everyone is that the complaints have now been pending for more than two years.
Two years.
Imagine telling a litigant, a lawyer, or a witness that allegations of misconduct against them would remain unresolved for years without meaningful public explanation. Imagine a court allowing an ordinary citizen to place a case into indefinite limbo.
Yet that appears to be precisely what happens when the subject of scrutiny is a federal judge.
The federal judiciary rightfully demands accountability from everyone who enters its courtrooms. Witnesses are expected to tell the truth. Lawyers are expected to act ethically. Litigants are expected to comply with court orders. Failure to do so can result in sanctions, fines, contempt findings, and even imprisonment.
But accountability loses its moral force when it appears to operate in only one direction.
The judiciary’s authority ultimately depends upon public confidence. Courts possess neither armies nor police forces. Their power rests on legitimacy—the public’s belief that judges are impartial, fair, and committed to the rule of law.
That legitimacy suffers when judicial misconduct investigations disappear into years of silence.
It suffers when serious allegations are resolved through private reprimands.
And it suffers when citizens conclude that there are two systems of accountability: one for the governed and another for those who govern from the bench.
The issue is not whether judges should be perfect.
They cannot be.
The issue is whether judges should be accountable.
They must be.
For more than two years, I have waited for answers regarding the complaints I filed. The recent controversy involving another federal judge only reinforces a concern shared by many Americans: the mechanisms designed to ensure judicial accountability appear increasingly opaque, increasingly slow, and increasingly insulated from public scrutiny.
The judiciary asks the public to trust it.
Trust, however, is not maintained through secrecy. It is maintained through transparency, responsiveness, and a demonstrated willingness to hold even the most powerful officials accountable when they fall short of the standards they are sworn to uphold.
Until that happens, private reprimands and years-long delays will continue to fuel a simple and uncomfortable question:
Who judges the judges?
The Valley Viewpoint 