Content warning: This article contains mentions of sexual assault.
In July 2023, police say Christopher Thompson approached a woman with a handgun, forced his way into her car and kidnapped her. He drove her to a school parking lot, raped her at gunpoint, then took her to an ATM and made her withdraw cash while he robbed her. After that, he drove her back to the same lot and raped her again. DNA evidence later tied him to both the assault and the vehicle, leading to his arrest and conviction for kidnapping, robbery, sodomy and sexual abuse.
Thompson didn’t just commit these crimes. He walked into a courtroom and made clear that he meant every second of it. He told the judge to eat his genitals. He said if he could spit on her, he would. He said he did not care about the victim, her family or the sentence. “Boo hoo,” he said. “I don’t care.” He showed no remorse. None. Not even a trace of shame. He didn’t pretend to be sorry. He didn’t fake regret. He told the court, plainly, that he did not care. When people tell you who they are, you should believe them.
A jury heard all of this. They heard the facts. They heard the victim. They weighed the damage done and recommended 65 years in prison. That is not vengeance. That is judgment. It is society saying this man is dangerous and cannot be trusted around other people for a very long time.
Judge Tracy Davis decided that 65 years was too long. She said Thompson had not matured. She said he fell through the cracks. She said he could still be rehabilitated. She said, explicitly, that his experience as a young Black man in America mattered in how she viewed his future.
Let’s be honest about this. A man commits one of the most violent crimes possible. He shows no remorse. He threatens the judge. He mocks the victim. And the court responds by saying, essentially, that his life circumstances matter more than the woman he raped.
Imagine this case with the races reversed. Imagine a white man raping a woman at gunpoint, telling a judge he would spit on her, saying he didn’t care about the victim and being told his sentence was reduced because of his social experience. The outrage would be instant and universal. No one would call it compassionate. They would call it insane. Justice cannot depend on identity. The moment it does, it stops being justice.
This does not mean judges should never consider background. It does not mean rehabilitation is fake. It means there are lines. And violent, unrepentant rape crosses them. Prison serves three purposes: punishment, protection and rehabilitation. In this case, the first two matter most. Thompson has already shown he is willing to terrorize a stranger. He has shown he does not care who he hurts. Reducing his sentence does not make society safer. It gambles with future victims.
People say no one is beyond redemption. That sounds nice. It also avoids responsibility. Redemption, if it comes, can happen behind bars. Rehabilitation does not require early release. If Thompson truly changes, he can do so without being turned loose on the public decades early.
This case also raises three questions we should actually be debating.
First, how much power should a single judge have to override a jury in violent crime cases? A jury represents the community. When a judge disregards that judgment, the public deserves a clear and narrow reason. “I feel differently” is not enough.
Second, what weight should remorse carry? Courts talk endlessly about rehabilitation, but rehabilitation requires accountability. Thompson showed none. Ignoring that sends a message that words and behavior do not matter.
Third, how should race factor into sentencing, if at all? If justice changes depending on who the defendant is, then the law is no longer neutral. That damages trust across the board.
This is about standards. A society that cannot protect women from violent rapists is not compassionate. It is careless. A system that excuses cruelty because of background is not humane. It is confused.
Christopher Thompson told the court exactly who he is. The jury listened. The judge did not. And when the system chooses sympathy for the offender over justice for the victim, it fails at its most basic job. Do we want a justice system that believes violent criminals when they confess their nature, or one that insists on seeing potential where none has been shown?
Self-written bio: Harrison Miller is a junior at Iowa State University studying political science and public relations. He wants to raise his family in a country that is safe, orderly and honest about its responsibilities, so his daughter can grow up without fear.
