Spend a few minutes reading the comments beneath almost any local arrest story on social media and you will see some variation of these comments:
“What kind of bond is that?”
“I’ve seen people get higher bonds for a lot less.”
“He’ll be right back out breaking into things again.”
I understand where those reactions come from. When people read that someone has been arrested for breaking into a home, assaulting someone, stealing property, or committing some other crime, their first reaction is often frustration, especially when the person arrested has a criminal history or the reader is familiar with the history of the individual being charged.
But those comments also demonstrate a widespread misunderstanding of what bond is supposed to be.
Bond is not punishment.
That distinction is important because, at the time a bond is being considered, the person standing before the magistrate or judge has been charged with a crime. They have not been convicted of it.
They are still presumed innocent.
What Is Bond Actually Supposed to Accomplish?
The traditional purpose of bond is fairly straightforward: to reasonably assure that the accused will appear in court to answer the charges against him or her.
That is why circumstances surrounding the individual matter.
Does the person have ties to the community? Does the person have a history of appearing in court as required? Has the person previously failed to appear? Is there reason to believe the person may flee rather than return to court?
A previous failure to appear, for example, has obvious relevance. If someone has demonstrated that he will not return to court when ordered to do so, a judicial official has legitimate reason to consider that when deciding what conditions will reasonably assure his appearance the next time.
Public safety can also be a legitimate consideration.
North Carolina law recognizes that reality, and recent changes to our pretrial-release laws have placed even greater emphasis on public safety in certain cases, particularly those involving violent offenses.
But neither of those purposes turns bond into punishment.
That distinction is where much of the public conversation seems to get lost.
“I’ve Seen Higher Bonds for Less”
Of course you have.
That doesn’t necessarily mean anything is wrong.
Bond isn’t supposed to operate like a restaurant menu where every criminal charge has a price printed beside it.
Breaking and entering: $10,000.
Robbery: $50,000.
Assault: $25,000.
That isn’t how this is supposed to work.
When someone says, “I’ve seen a higher bond for a lesser crime,” they are comparing the allegations while ignoring the individuals standing before the court.
Two people can be charged with the same offense and have very different circumstances relevant to pretrial release.
Likewise, two people charged with very different offenses could receive bond amounts that don’t seem proportional if you look only at the names of the charges.
That’s because the bond is not the sentence.
The seriousness of the allegation certainly matters under North Carolina law, but the amount of someone’s bond should not be interpreted as the judicial system assigning a dollar value to the seriousness of the alleged crime.
A $5,000 bond doesn’t mean the court thinks the crime doesn’t matter.
A $100,000 bond doesn’t mean the person is more likely to be found guilty.
Neither is a sentence.
Charged Does Not Mean Convicted
This may be the most important distinction of all.
An arrest means there was sufficient probable cause to charge someone with a crime.
It does not mean the State has proven the individual committed that crime beyond a reasonable doubt.
Those are two very different standards at two very different stages of the criminal justice process.
Yet when we read an arrest report, it is incredibly easy to skip everything that is supposed to happen between accusation and punishment.
We see the charge.
We see the mugshot.
We read the allegations.
And sometimes, within seconds, we have convicted the person ourselves.
Then we look at the bond and become angry because the punishment doesn’t seem severe enough.
Except there hasn’t been a punishment yet.
There hasn’t even been a trial.
Put Yourself on the Other Side
Maybe the easiest way to understand why this distinction matters is to remove the stranger’s mugshot from the equation.
Imagine that tomorrow morning you are arrested.
Maybe you’re innocent.
Maybe there has been a mistake.
Maybe someone falsely accused you.
Maybe the police genuinely believe they have the right person, but some piece of evidence that proves otherwise hasn’t been discovered yet.
Whatever the circumstances, you know that you did not commit the crime.
But your photograph appears online anyway.
Your name is there.
The charge is there.
People who have never met you begin commenting.
“Keep him locked up.”
“That bond is ridiculous.”
“He’ll just get out and do it again.”
“Give him a $500,000 bond and make sure he can’t get out.”
How would you feel then?
Would you want your bond determined by the anger underneath a Facebook post?
Would you want the amount based upon what strangers think you deserve for a crime you haven’t been convicted of committing?
Or would you want the magistrate or judge to remember one of the most fundamental principles of our justice system:
You are presumed innocent unless and until the State proves you guilty beyond a reasonable doubt.
It’s easy to believe in the presumption of innocence when we’re talking about ourselves.
The real test is whether we believe in it when we’re looking at somebody else’s mugshot.
“He’ll Just Do It Again”
Then there is perhaps the most difficult argument:
“He’ll just get out and do it again.”
Sometimes that concern is understandable, particularly when someone has a lengthy criminal history.
North Carolina law allows public safety and criminal history to play roles in pretrial-release decisions, and the General Assembly has strengthened those considerations in recent years.
Those laws should be followed.
But we should also recognize what we’re saying when we demand that someone remain incarcerated simply because we believe we know what he will do in the future.
At the time of the bond hearing, the State has not yet proven that the accused committed the current offense.
That doesn’t mean a judicial official should ignore a legitimate and legally recognized threat to another person or to the community. Public safety matters.
It does mean that there is an important difference between addressing an identifiable risk and punishing someone for what we believe he has done or could possibly do.
Those concepts shouldn’t be confused.
Punishment Has Its Place
None of this is an argument against punishment.
Quite the opposite.
When someone commits a crime, the State should investigate it thoroughly.
When probable cause exists, law enforcement should make the appropriate arrest.
Prosecutors should present the evidence.
The accused should have an opportunity to challenge that evidence.
And if the State proves guilt beyond a reasonable doubt, or the defendant pleads guilty, then punishment becomes entirely appropriate.
Fine them.
Place them on probation when appropriate.
Send them to prison when the crime and our laws warrant it.
Hold people accountable for the crimes they have actually been proven to have committed.
But that should be done only after guilt has been established beyond a reasonable doubt.
We shouldn’t use bond as a substitute for the punishment that may eventually come after conviction.
The Next Time You See an Arrest
So, the next time you read an arrest story and find yourself looking at the bond amount and thinking, “That’s all?” remember what stage of the process you’re looking at.
You aren’t reading about a conviction.
You’re reading about an accusation.
The person may ultimately plead guilty. A jury may ultimately find that person guilty. The charges may be dismissed. The person may be acquitted.
We don’t know yet.
That’s why we have courts.
That’s why we have trials.
That’s why the State carries the burden of proving guilt beyond a reasonable doubt.
And that’s why bond should never be confused with punishment.
Bond is about what happens while we wait for justice to run its course.
Punishment is what can happen after it does.
