Rosemarie Aquilina, the judge who presided over the astounding sentencing hearing of former USA Gymnastics team doctor Larry Nassar this month, has emerged as a heroine for victims of sexual assault.
Her decision to allow 156 women and girls to address their alleged abuser in court, with their emotional testimony streamed live across the nation, created an invaluable opportunity for catharsis, and directed vital attention to what is likely the worst sex abuse scandal in U.S. sports history.
But Aquilina’s manner during sentencing, in which she said she was honored to sentence Nassar to die in prison and suggested he deserved to be sexually assaulted himself, has raised questions about whether she overstepped her role as an impartial arbiter of justice.
It is not unusual for judges to use emotional language during sentencing, or to offer their frank opinion about what a heinous person they believe the defendant to be, based on their criminal conduct. That’s not inconsistent with impartiality, so long as the judge’s opinion is drawn from the relevant facts in the case, and not extraneous factors, such as the race of a defendant.
In 2013, when Judge Michael Russo gave Ariel Castro ― who kidnapped and sexually assaulted three women ― a sentence of life without parole plus 1,000 years in prison, he told Castro his crimes were so serious that he should never live among the general public again. “You don’t deserve to be out in our community,” Russo said. “You’re too dangerous.”
Judge John Cleland, who in 2012 sentenced Penn State football coach Jerry Sandusky to 30 to 60 years in prison for sexually abusing 10 boys, said that because of Sandusky’s age, he would be in prison for the rest of his life. “You abused the trust of those who trusted you. These are not crimes against strangers, they are much worse,” Cleland said. “The crime is not only what you did to their bodies, but your assault to the safety and well-being of the community in which we all live.”
But Aquilina’s remarks were unusual in how fiercely she championed the victims over the four-day sentencing hearing, emerging more as an advocate than a dispassionate judge.
“It is my honor and privilege to sentence you, because, sir, you do not deserve to walk outside of a prison ever again,” she told Nassar on Wednesday as she sent him to prison for 40 to 175 years. “I’ve just signed your death warrant.” She also went so far as to suggest that he deserved to experience the pain of sexual abuse himself.
On the first day of the hearing, she mused about allowing “many people” to sexually assault Nassar if she were permitted to.
“Our Constitution does not allow for cruel and unusual punishment,” she said. “If it did, I have to say, I might allow what he did to all of these beautiful souls ― these young women in their childhood ― I would allow some or many people to do to him what he did to others.”
Nassar’s case comes at a unique and fraught moment, which might explain Aquilina’s vehemence and bloodthirstiness, though not necessarily excuse it. The country is in the middle of a reckoning over sexual abuse and harassment, largely committed by men and against women, with the #MeToo movement dominating headlines and public discourse.
Charles Gardner Geyh, a law professor at Indiana University’s Maurer School of Law whose work centers on judicial conduct and ethics, was sympathetic to Aquilina’s experience, but said he believes her conduct set a poor example.
“The overarching principle, which is embedded in the code of conduct of literally every state, is that a judge shall act at all times in a manner that promotes public confidence in the impartiality, integrity and independence of the judiciary,” he said.
Suggesting that it would be fitting for Nassar to be sexually victimized, if only the law allowed it, was “a step too far,” Geyh went on. “She is the representative of the government here,” he said. “From the law’s perspective, we ought to be saying no sexual assault at all.”
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