No pressure
Is the misbegotten Daniel Penny trial coming apart at the seams? Or is the biased, rabidly anti-White “judge” attempting a little kangaroo court jiggery-pokery in hopes of teasing out a guilty verdict somehow, some way, on ANY charge at ALL?
Daniel Penny trial judge agrees to drop top manslaughter count after jury deadlocks twice
A Manhattan judge on Friday agreed to drop the top charge against Daniel Penny in the subway chokehold death of Jordan Neely.“We move to dismiss the top count of manslaughter in the second degree,” Assistant District Attorney Dafna Yoran told the court at around 3:30 p.m.
The judge then signed off on the request — which came after jurors twice said Friday they couldn’t come to a verdict on the manslaughter rap.
The 12-person panel will continue deliberating Monday on the lesser charge of criminally negligent homicide, which Penny, 26, faces in the fatal May 2023 encounter aboard an uptown F train.
He has pleaded not guilty.
Which, of course, he is. In truth, the man is a bona fide hero—and in a sane, righteous city (if any still exist in Amerika v2.0) he’d be hailed as one for such an exemplary display of selflessness, initiative, physical courage, and derring-do in defense of a subway-car load of total strangers. Instead of this revolting abomination of a politically driven witch-hunt stunt of a show-trial of a shit circus, NYC ought to’ve expressed appreciation and humble gratitude via a tickertape parade down Broadway in Penny’s honor for stepping up like he did to protect his fellow straphangers from an aggressive, proven-dangerous predator with an extensive record of mental illness, serious health issues, substance abuse, chronic hallucination, and random violence.
Poor Perry Mason must be spinning in his grave on an 800-horsepower rotisserie rack at this vile molestation of the very concept of justice.
It’s a lead-pipe cinch that every other passenger riding the train that day (hell, any day, EVERY day) would’ve sat timidly back, kept quiet, and pretended not to see a thing, hoping and praying that said maniac would just pass them by and go threaten, harass, and assault somebody else. How sad it is that, in the topsy-turvy, Bearded Spock universe NYC clearly prefers, any valiant soul who unhesitatingly puts his own safety—his very life, even—on the line for the sake of others will inevitably wind up being the victim of 1) Überstadt malifecence, and 2) the cowardice, complacency, and ignoble self-absorption of his fellow New Yorkers ere the end.
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