Photo: AFP
Daniel Penny is a hero.
He proved that the day he enlisted.
And he proved it again on May 1, 2023, when he stood alone in defense of a subway car full of terrified people.
It’s that simple. A man was shouting in the faces of women and children that he was going to kill them, that he didn’t mind going back to jail, that he was going to hurt them.
And Daniel Penny did something about it.
He protected innocent people.
And because he’s a white guy – and the other guy was black – he’s on trial for it. In the us-versus-them politics of New York City, with Al Sharpton and AOC calling for his head, it’s been a prosecution about politics, not justice. Friday, a deadlocked jury resulted in a manslaughter charge being thrown out, and today they’re going to try to get the jury to convict on negligent homicide.
He ought to walk.
He ought to be given the key to the city.
He ought to be held up as an example for others to follow.
But probably they’ll destroy him.
Four years in the Marine Corps, working on becoming an architect, and one subway ride throws all that away. That’s how personal destruction works.
Jordan Neely got on the subway in Manhattan. He started shouting that he didn’t have food, that he didn’t have anything to drink. He shouted that he didn’t mind going back to jail, and he threw down his coat, lunging at passengers, throwing garbage at them and saying that they all were going to die. He screamed and waved his arms, lunging to within six inches of people.
Then he leapt at a woman who had taken her infant son from his stroller and had positioned herself behind the stroller as a shield from Jordan Neely’s aggression. She later told police that she thought he was going to kill her.
That’s when Daniel Penny stepped in.
He approached Jordan Neely from behind, as he shouted threats at the cowering woman, and put him in a headlock. A headlock he had learned in boot camp.
And it was a headlock, not a choke hold. There’s a difference. A headlock restrains you, a choke hold kills you – right away. A choke hold cuts off the flow of blood to the brain and air to the lungs, rendering you quickly unconscious.
A headlock helps control a person, minimizing the risk of injury to both parties.
The alternative to restraining someone from behind is attacking them from the front. In a face-to-face fight, the only ways to stop an assailant are through injury or pain. You must inflict sufficient injury to incapacitate the person, or you must inflict pain sufficient to dissuade them from their attack. And, in a face-to-face fight, you do that at significant risk, as you face the assailant’s fists, feet and teeth.
With a headlock, you minimize the risk to yourself, and you minimize the risk to the person you are restraining.
You minimize the risk, but you don’t eliminate it. You can’t eliminate it. There is no safe way to restrain a physical threat. And the sad passing of Jordan Neely shows that. His underlying health and intoxication, and the sustained nature of his resistance, factored into a situation that ended in his death.
That’s a sad and tragic thing.
But it’s not a crime.
Jordan Neely died in a situation of his own creating.
Daniel Penny did nothing but defend innocent passengers on a subway.
He stood up against the type of lawlessness that has come to define America’s big cities.
He did what a man is supposed to do. He demonstrated honor, courage and commitment, the core values of the Marine Corps whose uniform he had worn for four years.
And they want to destroy him.
In part to intimidate you.
When criminals are released without bail, and those who fight criminals are threatened with prison, the prejudice of a political party is shown. New York is a city and a state dominated by a political party whose policies empower criminals and endanger society, and people like Daniel Penny are a threat to that.
Because they remind us that we can fight back.
That we don’t have to be passive.
That self-defense is a natural right.
The death of Jordan Neely is heartbreaking. But so is the fear he purposely inspired.
Daniel Penny isn’t a criminal, he is a hero.
No matter what the jury says.