By Zy Richardson
Like many major American cities, Baltimore has had its share of political scandals. For years, the public has witnessed allegations of misconduct met with cynicism, ridicule and consequences for the accused. Investigative reporting akin to a public lynching.
Yet, media coverage and public discourse regarding federally indicted state Sen. Dalya Attar, D-District 41, has been kept at a whisper.
The treatment of Black elected officials facing allegations of wrongdoing is well documented. When allegations surface, media coverage has often become intense and unrelenting. Accusations dominate headlines, public confidence erodes quickly and calls for resignation frequently emerge long before a court reaches a verdict. We are often told that such officials cannot be trusted and are unfit for public office. Even before criminal proceedings have run their course, pressure mounts for them to leave public life altogether.
It would be nice to believe that all allegations of misconduct are treated equally. But recent events raise an uncomfortable question: Are Maryland’s standards for public trust based on principle or the identity of the person whose conduct is under scrutiny?
Sheila Dixon, Catherine Pugh and Marilyn Mosby immediately come to mind. Nathaniel Oaks, most analogous to Attar, was also indicted less than a year after his appointment to the Maryland Senate. He was immediately removed from his committee assignments and resigned shortly thereafter. Recently, the Baltimore Sun’s editorial board and an activist publicly called for action against former senator Jill P. Carter for her comments on Attar and the double standard.
Similarly, as the inspector general and Mayor Brandon M. Scott engage in a highly public dispute over access to records, some political commentators have already suggested that serious corruption or self-dealing must be at work by Scott, despite the absence of any formal findings. The inspector general reposted a satirical caricature of the mayor that many perceived as racist and she claimed it was a mistake.
To be clear, my experiences undoubtedly inform my perspective. I served as the former communications director in the Baltimore City State’s Attorney’s Office under Marilyn Mosby. But this issue is not about personal or professional relationships. The question is whether the same accountability standards apply evenly to everyone.
The coverage surrounding Mosby was relentless. She was routinely described as “disgraced” and “corrupt” long before a jury rendered a verdict, and the allegations dominated local political discourse for years. Catherine Pugh and Sheila Dixon experienced similar treatment.
By contrast, the allegations involving Sen. Attar have generated a notably more restrained response from many of the same institutions and voices that previously demanded immediate accountability from others. Like the others, she is presumed innocent until or unless proven guilty in a court of law. But, unlike the others, she continues to hold a seat of power and is rigorously campaigning for reelection in a business-as-usual manner without her indictment defining her fitness.
Imagine for a moment that a Black elected official had been accused of involvement in a conspiracy to secretly record sex acts to allegedly prevent a political critic from exposing their illegal campaign donations. Would the political public response have been equally restrained?
Two recent articles note that Attar continues to “draw support” as she seeks reelection while her indictment raises “an uncomfortable political question.” She remains part of a self-named Team 41 Unity Slate.
Even the current top prosecutor, Ivan J. Bates, who endorsed her prior to the indictment, stated he will not rescind his endorsement but will not be involved. Shortly after his statement of non-involvement, a flurry of mailers with his endorsement flooded 41st District voters’ mailboxes.
This is not to suggest Attar should be subjected to harsher treatment. As an advocate of justice reform, I believe every person deserves due process and the presumption of innocence. The concern is precisely the opposite: that all public officials should receive the same measure of fairness, scrutiny and accountability.
“People lose confidence in politics and government when they perceive accountability for some but not for all.”
Ultimately, this discussion is not really about Attar. Her situation highlights a larger and more persistent concern: the perception that accountability is applied unevenly depending upon who stands accused. For many Black elected officials, allegations often become convictions in the court of public opinion long before all the facts are known. At a moment when public trust in institutions is already fragile, nationally and locally, selective accountability carries a high cost. People lose confidence in politics and government when they perceive accountability for some but not for all.
The opinions expressed in this commentary are those of the writer and not necessarily those of the AFRO.
