Like Chris Rock once said to a packed crowd during the Jessie Smollett Scandal..."What the Hell was he Thinking?" ...
When prosecutors retreat, other actors fill the void. Sheriffs begin to play investigator, prosecutor, judge, and jury. The public is asked to accept performances in place of process. Accountability becomes optional.
The issue, then, is not whether Sheriff Jones overstepped. It is why he felt empowered to do so in the first place. History provides the answer. Under a hands-on prosecutor, such conduct would have been unthinkable—or at least swiftly corrected. Under a hands-off one, it becomes normalized.
For years, we lived in the "hands-on" era of Steve Crump. Crump was far from perfect—the "massage therapist with benefits" blackmail/scandal involving Miranda Cheatham re-trial hearing proved that. Yet, despite his personal failings, Crump demonstrated a professional spine. Video of Re-trial Hearing.
Today, we are living in the "hands-off" era of Stephen Hatchett. A protégé of the Bebb legacy, Hatchett has returned us to a time where the DA’s office acts as a buffer for law enforcement rather than a check on it. His silence regarding Sheriff Jones’s attempt to play judge and jury over the Lester Isbill homicide investigation is deafening.
Unprecedented Interference: Why the Sheriff's Post-Homicide 'Stunt' Faced No Charges
The Isbill family deserves better than a "purring" tomcat in the DA’s office. They deserve a system that respects the homicide ruling of a medical examiner more than the political survival of a Sheriff.
Imagine being Lester Isbill's daughter, Windy. You lost your 74-year-old father after he was strapped in a restraint chair for nine hours. You finally get a homicide ruling from a brave medical examiner, and then you have to watch the acting Sheriff play judge and jury over his own jail's killing.
"Judge and Jury over his own Jail's Homicide"—is the heart of the matter. It strips away the political jargon and reveals the core violation: a conflict of interest so large it threatens the entire concept of a "fair trial."
Imagine for a moment being the family of Lester Isbill. They didn't just lose a father and a grandfather; they lost him to a system that treated a 74-year-old man in medical distress like a criminal. He was strapped into a restraint chair for nine hours, a "suffering" that his daughter, Windy Duncan, says has left a hole in her heart that will never be filled.
Then, after the Knox County Medical Examiner courageously ruled the death a homicide, the family had to watch Sheriff, Tommy Jones, go on a public campaign to undermine that doctor. To the Isbill family, that "unprecedented" stunt—where the Sheriff grilled the medical examiner—must feel like a second betrayal. It’s one thing to lose a loved one to negligence; it’s another to watch the highest-ranking law enforcement officer in the county use his platform to try and rewrite the cause of death.









