How This ‘Progressive Prosecutor’ Balances Politics and Public Safety

On the first Sunday in February, Eric Gonzalez, Brooklyn’s district attorney, sat in the front row at Antioch Baptist Church in the Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood. The visit was emblematic of Mr. Gonzalez’s approach to criminal justice: Alongside dozens of parishioners, he and several local officials and police leaders listened to music, prayer and a biblical account of healing by faith and touch.

When the service was over, Mr. Gonzalez and a top police commander stepped outside and into a crime scene. Just down the street, at around 2 a.m. that day, an 18-year-old man had been fatally shot in his car — Brooklyn’s 11th homicide of the year.

A few short hours and a few hundred feet apart, the two episodes illustrated the narrow path that Mr. Gonzalez must walk. First elected in 2017, he pledged to bring a modern, progressive approach — a prosecutor’s healing touch — to a criminal justice system that has long been seen as a source of inequity. But as he begins his second term, stubborn increases in shootings, gang violence and other crimes have focused the city’s attention on public safety and complicated Mr. Gonzalez’s ability to fulfill that pledge.

Some New Yorkers — most notably, Mayor Eric Adams — have blamed the increases in everything from shoplifting to shootings on leniency in prosecuting lower-level crimes. Calls for a tough-on-crime approach have run up against efforts to reduce the city’s jail population and rectify decades of racially biased policing.

Across the country, many of Mr. Gonzalez’s peers in what has come to be known as the “progressive prosecutor” movement — including Alvin Bragg, Manhattan’s newly elected district attorney — have struggled to balance the competing demands. Although it is unclear what is causing the spike in shootings, their critics have focused on what they see as heightened scrutiny of the police, an emphasis on social services over prosecution and the easing of bail and sentencing laws.

Faced with a spate of grisly crimes, rising public anxiety, relentless criticism from conservative commentators and open rejection by police unions, Mr. Bragg has spent his first weeks in the job clarifying and, in some cases, reversing some of his more ambitious proposals.

Mr. Gonzalez has largely escaped such scrutiny, despite pursuing similar policies for years.

How he navigates these at times conflicting priorities — reducing crime while making the justice system more just; responding to residents’ concerns without filling jails; serving victims while addressing the roots of criminal behavior — could be key in shaping the future of the city’s criminal justice system.

“I know what works, and my strategy has not shifted,” Mr. Gonzalez said in a recent interview. “It’s my job to care about quality of life. What I am responsible for is safety — I am also a steward of public trust in our justice system.”

He added: “Those are all things progressives have not gotten right in their messaging.”

According to current and former colleagues, nonprofit leaders, academics, Mr. Gonzalez’s peers and other law-enforcement officials, his strategy boils down to this: Listen to the community. Work with the police. Do not speak in absolutes or make promises you cannot keep. Work quietly and steadily, making change case by case.

A Career in Brooklyn

Mr. Gonzalez, 53, grew up in the East New York and Williamsburg neighborhoods, at a time when violence and drugs plagued Brooklyn.

He graduated from John Dewey High School in Coney Island, then went to Cornell University and the University of Michigan Law School. In 1995, he started working at the Brooklyn district attorney’s office, rose through the ranks as a prosecutor, and never left. He lives with his wife and three sons in Williamsburg, less than a mile from where he grew up.

He became acting district attorney in late 2016, after his predecessor, Ken Thompson, died of cancer.

When he was elected to a full term the next year, Mr. Gonzalez pledged to lead “the most progressive D.A.’s office in the country,” promoting public safety and treating Brooklyn’s minority residents fairly.

Mr. Gonzalez and his advisers put together a vision for the office, which was discussed widely within the office and shared with residents and the police. Early release from prison would be the default position in most parole proceedings; intervention efforts would be employed to drive down gang crime; prosecutors would be encouraged to resolve cases without jail time. The plan also called for more vigorous prosecution of certain sex crimes — such as so-called acquaintance rape — and the addition of a hate crimes unit.

When the plan, “Justice 2020,” came out, it was “a non-story, because he had already sold it and begun to implement it,” said Tali Farhadian Weinstein, who served as general counsel under Mr. Gonzalez, and ran unsuccessfully against Mr. Bragg last year. She and several other former colleagues said the quiet, incremental rollout was typical of his style. “Not because you’re trying to hide the ball, but because that’s sometimes the best way for public safety,” she said.

In his first full term, Mr. Gonzalez continued the work he began as acting district attorney: He dismissed tens of thousands of summonses for low-level offenses, and virtually stopped prosecuting marijuana possession. He expanded a mentorship program that allowed some young men arrested with a gun for the first time to avoid prison, and he reached plea deals with immigrant defendants that allowed them to avoid deportation.

Yung-Mi Lee, the legal director of the criminal defense practice at Brooklyn Defender Services, said an important difference between Mr. Gonzalez and Mr. Bragg was that Mr. Gonzalez did not come out of the gates with a sweeping set of changes.

Instead, Ms. Lee said, he had been “quietly implementing his policies, in terms of what kinds of cases should be prosecuted, which kinds of cases he has been declining to prosecute” — with some getting “a very hard-line approach.”

“It’s all about prosecutorial discretion,” she said.

When residents of Bay Ridge were upset about a group of men who often lingered on a corner near a school, drinking and urinating, Mr. Gonzalez said, his office intervened. Instead of seeking charges, the office contacted a charity service, and got a couple of the men into shelters.

“Eric Gonzalez, rhetorically, is very progressive,” said Carl Hamad-Lipscombe, the executive director of the Envision Freedom Fund, a Brooklyn nonprofit and bail fund that pushes for alternatives to pretrial detention.

“What plays out in court is often very different,” Mr. Hamad-Lipscombe said, with prosecutors from Mr. Gonzalez’s office seeking bail in cases that might not call for it.

Working With the Police

One factor that contributes to Mr. Gonzalez’s ability to walk the line between progressive priorities and community calls to tackle public safety concerns more aggressively is his diplomatic relationship with the Police Department, which he cultivated over a quarter century as a state prosecutor.

“They have always been given a voice at the table,” Mr. Gonzalez said of the police.

In 2017, the city’s largest police union endorsed Mr. Gonzalez in the Democratic primary, saying he “demonstrated a clear commitment to justice and fairness, as well as an understanding of the difficult and unique nature of a police officer’s duties.”

Still, Mr. Gonzalez has occasionally faced criticism from the police. In 2019, when his office released a list of officers whose credibility had been undermined through discredited testimony or workplace infractions, the police union that once endorsed him said he had “abandoned his prosecutorial role,” siding with “criminals, not crime victims.”

The department also objected strongly to his approach to gun possession cases. The police started to send gun cases to federal prosecutors instead; one of Mr. Gonzalez’s former top aides recalled that he had to work hard “to rebuild those bridges.”

Mr. Gonzalez’s delicate approach to working with the police is rooted, observers said, in a fundamental understanding of New York: When it comes to law and order, much of the city can be somewhat conservative. In last year’s Democratic mayoral primary, Mr. Adams — a former police officer who ran on a tough-on-crime platform — carried many of the districts hit hardest by violent crime.

“I constantly hear people say they want more cops — they just want their cops to behave differently,” said Richard Aborn, the president of the Citizens Crime Commission of New York, a nonprofit group that works closely with law enforcement and community organizations.

By the end of 2020, Brooklyn had tallied 175 murders and 652 shootings, compared with about 100 murders and 290 shootings the year before. Aggravated assaults also increased, as did burglaries and car thefts.

Brooklyn reported some improvement last year: a 15 percent decline in murders and 20 percent fewer shootings. Robbery, rape and burglary also dropped. Mr. Gonzalez’s office worked with the police on four major gang takedowns.

But there is more work to be done.

“We became the safest large city in America,” Mr. Aborn said. “When you’ve had 15 years of those levels of safety, and suddenly random shootings and murders start to creep up — people being shot, people being pushed on the subway, bodegas broken into with guns, that is going to shake an already shaken city.”

Mr. Gonzalez has argued that this is not a problem the city can arrest its way out of. Many of the concerns he hears, he said, are not about violent crime or gangs or gun violence, but about residents’ perceptions of an erosion of public safety.

“You have to have your ear to the ground, because it really goes from community to community,” Mr. Gonzalez said.

His office recently fielded a call from a chain drugstore in the Brownsville neighborhood that was being targeted regularly by several shoplifters who would get violent when confronted.

“There are neighborhoods with one pharmacy,” Mr. Gonzalez said. If that branch shuts down, “Suddenly, that community doesn’t have a 24-hour pharmacy.”

A woman in Mr. Gonzalez’s office who handles cases involving repeat offenders talked to the local precinct and set up a pilot program. Detectives in unmarked cars stationed outside the store arrested the shoplifters but, rather than jail or prosecute them, the district attorney’s office spoke with them about what was behind the thefts: Of the six who agreed to participate in the pilot program, two reported having mental health problems, three were homeless and all reported substance abuse problems.

The six were referred to service providers, and Mr. Gonzalez’s office is tracking their progress.

“To me, being progressive is not simply about not prosecuting cases,” Mr. Gonzalez said. “It’s about using the resources to protect communities.”

Nicole Hong contributed reporting.