Your Budget is Showing

And it says we value manicured medians over murder trials to put criminals away. That we value bread and circuses over the protection of our natural rights.

The flags have been folded. The parades are over. The echoes of fireworks have faded into the summer wind. Across Georgia, county commissioners and other elected officials are back at the grind (such as it is)—facing budgets, complaints, requests, and millage rate decisions. In six months, legislators will return to session, hundreds of new bills and competing priorities in hand.

But before ay decision is made before any vote is cast, before a single line item is adjusted or another budget hearing begins, I want to ask a simple question—one that has nothing to do with party or politics and everything to do with perspective:

What would you do if…?

If your child were wrongly accused of a serious crime tomorrow, would you trust the system as it stands today to defend their rights? Would you believe Georgia’s constitutional promise to “insure Justice to all” would truly be kept?

Would you feel secure knowing their public defender is juggling a frightening number of open cases, with little support and even less time? Would you feel peace in your heart trusting that the charges filed were all carefully and fairly investigated—rather than stacked to compel a plea, precisely to avoid the chance of trial? Would you let the process play out? Or would you call in every contact, exhaust every favor, drain your savings to ensure they were protected?

Now imagine another scenario—one no parent, sibling, or spouse ever wants to face: you lose a loved one in a car crash caused by a drunk driver. The only hope for justice rests with the local district attorney. Would you feel reassured, knowing their office is stretched thin, their attorneys exhausted and underpaid, drowning beneath caseloads no human could reasonably carry?

Would you understand if a plea deal with minimal consequences was offered—not because it was just, but because there simply weren’t enough resources to take the case to trial?

These aren’t hypotheticals. They are real, lived experiences for thousands of Georgia families every year. And the painful truth is: our government-run justice system is broken and it fails them. Not because people in power don’t care. Not because anyone is neglecting their duties. But because we’ve quietly let other priorities rise above the most foundational one of all.

Justice.

Securing justice is why government exists in the first place. That’s not good writing—it’s right there in our founding documents. The Declaration of Independence tells us: governments are instituted to secure our rights. Not just to provide comfort. Not to entertain or feed us. Not to put out fires or rescue us from danger. But to secure liberty. Life. Property. The pursuit of happiness.

Everything else—every park, every recreation program, every mowing crew or new tractor to manicure the medians, every feel-good initiative—is secondary to that. Worthwhile, yes. But secondary.

That word—secure—carries weight. It’s more than sentiment. It is obligation.

We shouldn’t ask much of our governments. But what we do ask is sacred. When someone is accused, when a victim needs justice, when rights are on the line . . . there is no substitute for a justice system that is fully resourced, fully staffed, and prepared to function as intended. And right now, we are not there.

Across Georgia and the country, roughly 90 to 95 percent of criminal cases end in plea bargains. Not trials. Not evidence being heard. Not guilt or innocence being fully tested. Just an agreement—often reached under pressure—because the system simply doesn’t have the people, time, or money to do anything else.

And while that may sound efficient, it is not justice.

The result? People waive their rights to avoid sitting in jail for months awaiting trial, or to escape the threat of a crushing sentence if they lose. Prosecutors, lacking resources and overwhelmed by heavy caseloads, offer lesser pleas—effectively choosing which victims matter more. Public defenders and prosecutors do their best with impossible workloads and ever-shrinking resources. It’s not the fault of the people in the system; it’s the fault of the system itself.

But here’s the good news: this isn’t irreversible.

No law says we must underfund these core institutions. No constitution requires a public defender to carry dozens too many felony cases, or a prosecutor to do the job of three. No principle of good governance demands we delay justice for victims because a courtroom lacks staff. These are decisions—decisions shaped by budgets, and ultimately, by our values.

Budgets are moral documents. They don’t just list expenditures; they tell the story of what a community believes matters most. And right now, county commissioners across Georgia have the chance to re-center that story.

This is not a criticism of any elected official past or present. It’s a reminder—a nudge, a call to reflect on our republic’s foundational promises and to ask, gently but earnestly: are we keeping them?

Because justice—real, meaningful justice available to all—isn’t something we can take for granted. It’s something we must build, protect, and invest in.

So whether you’re a commissioner facing tough funding decisions or a legislator preparing for next session looking at state funding and structural reforms, I ask: look at the numbers not just as officials, but as citizens. As parents. As neighbors. Imagine, for a moment, that the accused is your child. Or the victim is your sister. Then ask yourself, honestly—would you want this system, as it stands now, to carry the burden of ensuring justice?

If the answer is no, then perhaps it’s time to make justice not just one of many line items—but the priority it was always meant to be.

Fund the District Attorney’s office.
Fund the Public Defender’s office.
Fund the courts.
Fully. Generously.
Above what they asked for—because I guarantee, they didn’t ask for enough. Resolve to put Justice above something flashier or more popular, if you must.

Because if your child’s future was on the line, or your loved one’s death demanded answers, you’d want the system to work as it was meant to.

Here’s the bottom line: Justice can’t just be a Fourth of July or election season talking point. It must be a daily commitment.

So resolve to change, maybe not all at once, but to get back to where we should be. Let this year’s budget say: We remember why we’re here. We protect the rights of citizens. We choose justice first.