When the Victim’s Wishes Don’t Matter
Last week we wrote a piece about what victims actually think of the registry. This week, a story in The Palm Beach Post raises another point related to Florida’s Marsy’s Law: What happens when the victim doesn’t want the outcome the State wants?
According to the reporting, a coach pleaded guilty to offenses involving a 14-year-old student and was sentenced to 24 months in prison followed by four years of probation. The victim and her family did not want him prosecuted. That fact was reported publicly by The Palm Beach Post itself. That is significant because Florida’s Constitution — in what is known as Marsy’s Law — gives crime victims a meaningful role in the criminal justice process. Among other things, victims have the right to be heard at plea and sentencing proceedings and the right to confer with the prosecuting attorney concerning plea agreements, sentencing and the disposition of the case. Florida Statutes goes even further. Section 960.001 specifically provides that, in qualifying cases, the State Attorney shall consult with the victim to obtain the victim’s views concerning the disposition of the case, including plea agreements and sentencing.
If the victim’s wishes are supposed to be part of the criminal justice process, what does it mean when those wishes are simply disregarded? FAC is not suggesting that a victim gets to dictate whether someone is prosecuted or what sentence a judge imposes. That’s not what Marsy’s Law says. But there is a profound difference between giving victims a meaningful voice and giving them a voice that the system simply ignores when it doesn’t like what they have to say.
Superficially, the headlines were ugly. An assistant football coach and a student. But below the surface, the guy was 20 years old. He was sentenced as a youthful offender. The relationship was consensual (yes, we get that a minor can’t consent). And most importantly neither the girl nor her parents wanted the guy prosecuted. The two years in prison are not the worst part. The worst is that after he completes his sentence, the consequences continue. He will be placed on Florida’s sex-offender registry for life, with restrictions and collateral consequences that affect where he lives, works, when he can travel and how he participates in society.
The victim didn’t want that and that should matter. Florida has spent years telling the public that its sex-offender laws are about protecting victims. Marsy’s Law was sold to voters as a way to ensure that victims have a meaningful voice in the justice system. But if the victim says, “This isn’t what I want,” who exactly is being protected here, and whose wishes are actually being heard?
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What about those whose lives are affected by no contact offenses? Such as viewing, downloading and asking for pics. How do they get that forgiveness so maybe they get some relief. Twenty fives years on a list. No wiggle room. I’ve always believed there is a better way to make a person accountable first, get them help and hopefully back on a good path before ruining their life on a list and all the walls of opportunity that go up. If a victim says no to a punishment and sentence that’s it. The legal system should drop the issue. It seems the only time the victims are listened to is if it creates another law to make money.
I would love to reply to you, but one of the moderators has some form of cognitive dissonance to information in my comments and has been censoring me for nearly 2 weeks. The only comment they’ve allowed to be posted is the complaint about censorship. All information relevant to whatever is the article content.
They are not helping the cause at all! They are not allowing me to have a voice and to share my own opinions and factual information, sourced in the comment.
They are making me feel like my voice doesn’t count, my opinions are being negated, the information is being kept from all of you because they have some form of mental impairment and it definitely isn’t lending itself to making me want to help this cause in which my son has been imprisoned since 2012.
Shame on people who censor! Shame on people who negate the opinions and voices of those they might not agree with which is tragic hypocrisy.
There are numerous circumstances in which individuals may find themselves registered without the presence of a victim.
I know this sounds unbelievable. But I’m married to a judge here, and I’ve seen the machinery from the inside. The difference is staggering. I’m not saying there is a perfect legal system. Just some much better and worthy of much more respect then ours.
For the majority of crimes involving victims, reconciliation is the first option, not an afterthought. The judiciary works harder as a mediator between parties—unlike the American system, where the state often acts more like the aggrieved party than the actual victim.
The numbers tell the story: in high majority of cases, charges aren’t pressed further than the alleged victim is actively pushing for punishment. No minimum/maximum state financial incentives applied. The state has no financial interest in forcing outcomes beyond what victims actually want. When victims and perpetrators can reach an agreement, the system facilitates that mediation rather than inserting its own interests. Imagine how much better the outcome especially in family situations. People can heal,cope, move past and find reconcilation.
I’ve found something paradoxical here: better justice exists in a so-called third world country precisely because there’s no money to be made from punishment
This is very similar to my case from 1997. The victim’s family didn’t want me prosecuted or sent to prison. I was given adjudication of guilt withheld and sentenced to five years of probation.
When everything was first disclosed, it was an immensely upsetting and tense time for everyone involved. I actually turned myself in to the police and confessed because the situation was escalating so rapidly. At the time, I had an ongoing drug and alcohol problem and was making terrible decisions across the board. Ultimately, though, I maintained good relationships with the family, our extended families, and our mutual friends. Everyone recognized how chaotic the situation was, wanted to move forward, and no lasting animosity ever developed. It was an embarrassing and foolish chapter, but we all moved past it.
Now, nearly 30 years later, strangers who see my name on the registry treat me like a monster. People who had absolutely nothing to do with the original offense use it to fuel their own judgment and outrage. Every year, new restrictions and punishments are heaped upon my family and me—as if what happened back then was pure evil, as if I never repented, and as if everyone involved was permanently ruined.
Did I make huge mistakes as a young man? Absolutely. I wish every day that I could go back in time and change what I did. But the false narrative forced on the public by the registry is wildly inaccurate and deeply damaging. I was granted adjudication of guilt withheld for a reason, yet the State of Florida and the media choose to ignore that legal distinction.
The registry operates by making people fearful of their neighbors, creating a perpetual pipeline of offenders marching into jails so law enforcement can justify expanding budgets and surveillance technologies. While there are certainly dangerous individuals who need to be monitored, the rest of us are trapped in a system that ignores individual context. I look forward to the day when people finally leave us alone, and the protections of the U.S. Constitution are fully restored. Right now, on so many levels, those constitutional rights feel completely dead in the water.
I understand your pain as a Black man living in America — a country that has repeatedly treated our existence as a threat instead of a birthright. From the moment we’re born, we inherit a struggle we never asked for. We grow up knowing that simply being Black can make us a target: profiled, feared, punished, and judged before we ever speak a word.
We’ve watched Black men be shot in the back while running away, punished with lifelong felonies that follow them even after they’ve rebuilt their lives, and treated as criminals even when they’ve done everything right. We’ve seen how quickly suspicion attaches itself to our skin, how easily society decides we’re dangerous or guilty without evidence. It’s exhausting, dehumanizing, retaliatory, biased, racist, classist, and deeply unfair.
Our history in this country is marked by violence, discrimination, and systemic injustice — from racial terror and lynchings to biased policing, unequal sentencing, and the constant pressure of being seen as “less than.” Even today, the weight of racism shows up in everyday life: in the way we’re watched, questioned, doubted, and denied opportunities that others receive without a second thought.
So, when I speak about my own situation, I know it doesn’t compare to the generational burden you carry. You didn’t make a mistake — your skin was never a crime — yet you’ve been forced to pay for it every single day. That reality speaks volumes about the systems we live under.
Even though I don’t agree with certain lifelong punishments placed on people who have changed their lives, I accept that my situation is something I must navigate. But your struggle is different — it’s not the result of a choice, but of a society that has repeatedly failed to protect and uplift Black people.
Your message is powerful, and your truth deserves to be heard. I wish you strength, peace, and protection as you continue moving through a world that hasn’t always shown you the humanity you deserve.
If a person that was harmed by crime forgives the person that harmed them then restorative justice should be honored and respected. When grace and mercy are applied towards the person who committed the crime unmerited favor and unmerited pardon should be honored and respected.
A child cannot fully understand the impact of sexual abuse or how deeply it will affect their life in the years ahead. They don’t have the emotional or cognitive maturity to grasp what has happened to them, let alone make decisions about prosecution or long‑term consequences. That’s why the responsibility to protect them must always fall on adults, the legal system, and society as a whole.
The punishment for these crimes must fit the severity of the harm. Sexual crimes against children are among the most devastating offenses imaginable, and people should already know — without question — that such acts are unacceptable. This is not 1926; it is 2026, and the reality is that child sexual abuse remains far too common in America. It continues to damage the lives of young boys and girls every single day. Protecting our vulnerable children must always come first, above anything else.
As someone who experienced sexual assault as a child, I can say from lived experience that it destroys your sense of safety, your self‑esteem, and your innocence in one moment. It changes the way you see yourself and the world. Many children who are abused also repeat the behaviors they were exposed to, not because they choose to, but because trauma rewires their development. This creates cycles of harm that ripple through families and communities.
Children often don’t want to prosecute their abusers because they are confused, scared, manipulated, or emotionally attached — a dynamic similar to Stockholm Syndrome, which is common among victims of sexual abuse. Their reluctance is not a sign of consent or understanding; it is a sign of trauma. That’s why the justice system must intervene on their behalf, even when they cannot speak for themselves.
This right here is exactly how my case played out 26 years ago. My victim and parents did not want charges filed and the state forced the case with threats of removing their kids for neglect to the parents if they protested the charges against what turned out to be 7 perpetrators, 6 of us which got prosecuted, the last being unknown and not prosecuted. The parents said “she made adult decisions, she will have to live with those decisions”. The states response was ” she is not old enough to make or consent to those adult decisions” with 7 people at one month shy of legal age of consent
How old were you and her and the rest of the guys? Do you see her ever in 2026 and how has it affected her life?
I was 21, she was within a month of turning 16, which I did not know until the detective informed me. Her and I met at a rave club designed for 18 and over through a mutual couple. As for the other guys, I’m not sure of their ages, and didn’t know them personally and only knew of the existence through court documents, a statement on record by the parents, and my attorney stating that there are others that abused her. As far as where she is now or how she is doing, I am not sure. There was and I assume a no victim contact stipulation in place. I will definitely not negate that it was absolutely a crime or that I was living a VERY risky life at the time. If anything, it grounded me and showed me that I was not invincible, which I thought I was at that period of life. It probably saved my life to be honest, but in 2000, the registry was nowhere near as restrictive or invasive. I was told even by the judge that at 20 years of living a clean productive life that I could be removed from the registry. I was sentenced to 5 years probation, early termination of 3, with old adjudication of guilt, restitution to the state, and to pay a portion for any counseling that she were to take, which she never did. I have wondered though about the impact of my actions on her. Having children of my own, which I have custody of, one out of 5 of which I have sole custody of, I have a full view of the protections and decisions that are required of a parent, and we talk ALOT about the impact of decisions that they make and the dangers posed to some of those decisions. I use my experience, both the good and bad, to teach them. I actually am one that stands on both sides of the registry.
Once again they don’t really protect anyone what is next victim won’t report anything parents will start in their own hands.