OPINION – We’re looking for a few good men … and fortunately, Daniel Penny fits the bill. The civil lawsuit filed by Andre Zachary against Daniel Penny highlights the disheartening reality of a society that often blames individuals for systemic failures. Daniel Penny, a Marine and architecture student, intervened in a terrifying moment on a New York City subway. He sought to protect fellow passengers from a man who was not just loud or erratic but was making threats that could not be ignored. Penny acted in a moment of chaos, guided by his instincts and training, to address what he perceived as a legitimate danger. Now, instead of recognition for stepping up where others might have stood by, Penny finds himself vilified in courtrooms, both criminal and civil.It is crucial to emphasize the environment in which this tragedy occurred. The New York City subway system has become increasingly unsafe, with rising incidents of violent crime and stories of commuters pushed onto the tracks or attacked without provocation. Passengers face an everyday reality where they are unsure whether someone shouting threats is simply venting or on the verge of violence. In this climate of fear, Daniel Penny acted when others would not.
The lawsuit filed by Andre Zachary reeks of opportunism. For years, Zachary was absent from his son’s life as Neely spiraled into homelessness and untreated mental illness. It’s a harsh reality, but one that cannot be ignored: Jordan Neely was failed not by Daniel Penny but by a father who was absent, a society that neglected mental health crises, and a system that allowed vulnerable individuals like Neely to fall through the cracks.
Zachary’s decision to file a civil lawsuit now, while Penny is awaiting a criminal trial verdict, smacks of strategic opportunism. He was not present in Neely’s life when it mattered most, yet now seeks to profit from a tragedy he had no role in preventing. The timing raises critical questions about the sincerity of his pursuit of justice. How can someone claim moral outrage when they were absent from the years of suffering that ultimately led to their child’s downfall? Zachary’s sudden involvement feels less like a cry for justice and more like an attempt to capitalize on a high-profile case.
The civil case also exposes the flaws in our legal system, where the burden of proof in a civil trial is far lower than in a criminal one. This disparity creates an opening for cases driven more by potential monetary gain than by a genuine search for accountability. In the criminal trial, Penny must be proven guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. In contrast, the civil trial merely requires a preponderance of evidence, meaning it only has to be more likely than not that Penny’s actions caused harm. This lowered threshold can lead to cases where the line between justice and exploitation becomes blurred.
Penny’s actions should not be judged in a vacuum. His decision to intervene was shaped by a climate of fear and rising violence in the city’s transit system. There had been over 20 instances of passengers being pushed onto subway tracks in the year leading up to Neely’s death, and commuters were understandably on edge. Penny stepped up to protect others, doing what many would be too afraid or unwilling to do. His actions were not reckless or malicious but driven by a genuine desire to prevent harm.
This is not to say Neely’s death isn’t a tragedy—it is. But tragedies often involve complex circumstances, and blame cannot be laid solely at the feet of those who tried to prevent further harm. The root causes of Neely’s death lie in a system that failed to address his mental health issues, provide adequate support, or ensure public safety. Instead of vilifying Penny, society should focus on addressing these systemic failures to prevent similar incidents in the future.
Support for Penny is not just about defending his actions; it’s about recognizing the broader implications of his case. If people like Penny—those willing to intervene in dangerous situations—are criminalized and sued into financial ruin, it sends a chilling message to society. The next time someone poses a threat to public safety, will bystanders step in, or will they hesitate, fearing legal and financial repercussions? The implications are dire, not just for individuals like Penny but for public safety as a whole.
The tragedy of Jordan Neely’s death should not overshadow the heroism of Daniel Penny. Neely’s life was marked by systemic failures and personal struggles, and his death was the culmination of those failures, not the result of malicious intent by Penny. Rather than punishing those who step up to protect others, we should focus on addressing the root causes that led to Neely’s decline—mental health neglect, homelessness, and public safety concerns.
Penny’s fight is not just his own; it’s a fight for anyone who believes in the responsibility to act in the face of danger. It’s a fight for those who refuse to stand idly by while others are at risk. Supporting Penny is about standing for accountability where it belongs and ensuring that the real failures—systemic neglect and societal indifference—are addressed. Daniel Penny deserves our support, not condemnation. He is a Marine who acted in a moment of crisis, and for that, he should be respected, not crucified.
“The Don’t Unfriend Me Show” explores a broad range of political themes, from satire to serious topics, with Matt Speer, a Navy Intel veteran, husband, and father, leading the show. Matt shares his views to stimulate constructive discussions. The show aims to provide a balanced perspective on complex issues, welcoming participants of all political affiliations to share their unique viewpoints.