Law, league struggle to police domestic abuse
Four prosecutors reviewed the case against Josh Brown before deciding not to file domestic assault charges, stemming from an alleged incident between the embattled kicker and his now exwife in May 2015.
In a memo to Det. Robin Ostrum on May 24, 2016, obtained by USA TODAY Sports, King County (Wash.) senior deputy prosecuting attorney Rich Anderson wrote he couldn’t file charges absent further evidence, testimony or statements from witnesses, in part because of Molly Brown’s “tumultuous” cooperation with the investigation.
Ostrum later referred the case to another prosecuting attorney, David Ryan, with the anticipation charges would be declined. Ryan agreed, closing the case Oct. 20 with approval from domestic violence unit supervisor David Martin and King County prosecutor Dan Satterberg because they couldn’t prove Brown intentionally grabbed the woman’s wrist, causing a bruise and abrasion, even though she’d confided prior abuse, according to another memo and department spokesman Dan Donohoe.
There are obvious differences between that process and the NFL’s internal justice system, over which Commissioner Roger Goodell has broad authority —power he vowed to wield with help from a beefed-up investigations team after the Ray Rice fiasco in 2014. King County authorities, like those across the country, operate within the limitations of proving guilt beyond a reasonable doubt.
But lost amid renewed furor at the NFL is the fact the overwhelming majority of American women (and men) abused by an intimate partner — nearly 20 per minute, according to the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence (NCADV) — don’t have a football league to expose their abusers when the system doesn’t.
Armed with little more than a police report, the NFL did something, suspending Brown for one game for an arrest that had gone unreported and triggering events that have almost surely ended his football career.
For more than a year, authorities in Washington had journals featuring Brown’s horrifying admissions to serial abuse of his ex- wife and other women, photos of injuries and property damage and other evidence released last week — and felt they could do nothing.
This isn’t a defense of the NFL, which surely would like to change its initial disciplinary decision. The league could’ve done more, and Goodell is the easiest target for outrage, given his power, influence and eight-figure salary.
Domestic violence is an extremely complex issue. Punishment such as jail time isn’t always the best solution, given the impact on families and other factors. Still, given intense scrutiny of the punitive aspects of the NFL’s response, it’s worth comparing discipline in high-profile cases.
When authorities in Atlantic City let Rice enter a pretrial intervention program that expunged the knockout of his then-fiancée from Rice’s record, rather than pursuing a three- to five-year prison sentence on a felony charge, the NFL suspended him for two games. That was increased to an indefinite ban (overturned on appeal) when TMZ.com published video of the incident — a tape authorities already had.
When Mecklenburg County (N.C.) district attorney Andrew Murray announced the dismissal of charges against Greg Hardy — who’d been convicted before a judge and sentenced to 18 months’ probation but appealed for a jury trial — because Hardy’s accuser disappeared after agreeing to a financial settlement, the NFL sued the state for photos of the woman’s injuries and suspended him for 10 games (reduced to four on appeal).
When the Columbus (Ohio) City Attorney’s Office last month declined to charge Dallas Cowboys running back Ezekiel Elliott for five allegations of domestic violence raised by an ex-girlfriend, the NFL kept investigating and recently interviewed Elliott, a person close to Elliott told USA TODAY Sports on Thursday. The person spoke on condition of anonymity because the person was not authorized to speak publicly.
Elliott might well be innocent. No one should want to live in a world where every accusation is accepted as fact and punished without due process. But the NFL isn’t punting to authorities.
The best thing the league has done on this societal issue isn’t instituting new investigatory procedures and recommending a sixgame suspension for a first offense and indefinite banishment for a second — a flexible guideline, as the Brown case illustrates. It’s establishing education and in- tervention programs, funding public service announcements and donating tens of millions of dollars to organizations that need it, including $25 million to the National Domestic Violence Hotline.
The NFL placed Brown on paid leave while it reviews the new allegations. The New York Giants released him Tuesday. Brown is entitled to the rest of this year’s salary (about $720,000), but he’ll live the rest of his life with the stigma of being a serial abuser.
Had the NFL followed authorities and let this go, Brown would still be kicking on Sundays. Maybe his admitted pattern of abusing women would’ve continued for years.
How many other abusers are walking the streets right now, set free by a system that reasoned it couldn’t even put Brown on trial?