The Drunken Highway Gambit

Lombardo Calls for Stiffer Penalties

It stands to reason that if a fellow climbs into his automobile after a drink too many and sets out to test the resilience of telephone poles, pedestrians, and his conscience, he ought to face punishment befitting the mayhem he unleashes. Governor Joe Lombardo appears to share this sentiment, for he has proposed that Nevada’s justice system sharpen its teeth when it comes to those who, in their inebriated stupor, send their fellow man to an early grave.

At present, a drunkard with a death on his conscience might find himself serving a sentence of two to twenty years, though an arithmetic quirk in Nevada’s 1995 sentencing law means he could be back to his revelries in as little as eight. Prosecutors, in their quest for more suitable retribution, have sought to elevate such cases to the level of murder. However, the Nevada Supreme Court has thus far swatted away these ambitions, declaring that the Legislature has set the rules for vehicular manslaughter.

Yet, there are moments when reality outpaces bureaucracy, such as when Jemarcus Williams, a man with all the judgment of a careening boulder, sent two Nevada troopers—men who had the misfortune of standing where they were supposed to—into eternity. For this, Williams accepted a plea deal granting him a maximum sentence of sixteen to forty years as a start, but hardly the deterrent that Lombardo and his allies envision.

Under current law, a man’s first encounter with a DUI charge earns him little more than a slap on the wrist—perhaps a couple of days in jail, community service, or a promise to behave. Only after three offenses does the law consider him a serious nuisance. Lombardo and his ilk argue it’s a system designed to encourage bad habits rather than reform them.

But the governor’s ambitions are not limited to tightening the screws on drunken drivers. He has also turned his attention to Nevada’s dwindling state police force, where troopers seem to be scarcer than shade in the desert.

Despite securing a pay raise in the last legislative session, the state police remain understaffed, with nearly half of their positions unfilled. The situation is such that, on some nights, only a handful of troopers patrol the entirety of Las Vegas, a city unknown for subtlety.

Lombardo insists that this is not a problem that money alone can fix—though a lack of pay raises this year won’t help matters. Instead, he speaks of changing recruitment strategies, adjusting qualifications, and, in what must be an ambitious undertaking, altering the attitudes of both leadership and the community toward law enforcement.

As for his DUI crackdown, the proposal is part of a broader crime bill, the details of which remain trapped in the wheels of legislative review. Though the deadline for introducing bills has passed, Lombardo’s measure will still receive consideration—perhaps proving that, unlike some of Nevada’s less fortunate motorists, it has not yet hit a dead end.