“Until the lions have their own historians, the history of the hunt will always glorify the hunter.” Nigerian author Chinua Achebe
reported by youarewithinthenorms.com
NORMAN J CLEMENT RPH., DDS, NORMAN L. CLEMENT PHARM-TECH, MALACHI F. MACKANDAL PHARMD, BELINDA BROWN-PARKER, IN THE SPIRIT OF JOSEPH SOLVO ESQ., INC.T. SPIRIT OF REV. IN THE SPIRIT OF WALTER R. CLEMENT BS., MS, MBA. HARVEY JENKINS MD, PH.D., IN THE SPIRIT OF C.T. VIVIAN, JELANI ZIMBABWE CLEMENT, BS., MBA., IN THE SPIRIT OF THE HON. PATRICE LUMUMBA, IN THE SPIRIT OF ERLIN CLEMENT SR., EVELYN J. CLEMENT, WALTER F. WRENN III., MD., JULIE KILLINGSWORTH, RENEE BLARE, RPH, DR. TERENCE SASAKI, MD LESLY POMPY MD., CHRISTOPHER RUSSO, MD., NANCY SEEFELDT, WILLIE GUINYARD BS., JOSEPH WEBSTER MD., MBA, BEVERLY C. PRINCE MD., FACS., NEIL ARNAND, MD., RICHARD KAUL, MD., IN THE SPIRIT OF LEROY BAYLOR, JAY K. JOSHI MD., MBA, AISHA GARDNER, ADRIENNE EDMUNDSON, ESTER HYATT PH.D., DR TERENCE SASAKI, MD., WALTER L. SMITH BS., IN THE SPIRIT OF BRAHM FISHER ESQ., MICHELE ALEXANDER MD., CUDJOE WILDING BS, MARTIN NJOKU, BS., RPH., IN THE SPIRIT OF DEBRA LYNN SHEPHERD, BERES E. MUSCHETT, STRATEGIC ADVISORS
McSwain: Philadelphia’s Benedict Arnold
This article strongly criticizes William McSwain, former U.S. Attorney, portraying him as a detrimental figure in Philadelphia. His opposition to supervised injection sites and aggressive use of civil asset forfeiture are highlighted as actions that harmed vulnerable communities, particularly in Kensington.
The authors parallel McSwain’s actions and Benedict Arnold’s, emphasizing a betrayal of public trust for personal and financial gain. McSwain’s subsequent employment at a corporate law firm is presented as further evidence of this betrayal.
Finally, the text explores the systemic issues of asset forfeiture, arguing that it incentivizes “policing for profit” and disproportionately affects marginalized groups.
the “Butcher of Kensington”
In Philadelphia’s rough-and-tumble streets, often marred by drug crises and cyclical violence, one man emerged not as a savior but as a figure many regard as a Benedict Arnold of public health and justice, U.S. Attorney General William M. McSwain.
Dubbed the “Butcher of Kensington” by local critics, McSwain’s tenure as U.S. Attorney for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania was marked by a relentless and controversial approach to criminal justice that, instead of lifting vulnerable communities, seemed to tighten the vice on the already disadvantaged.
McSwain, who once served as a Marine Corps infantry officer and now touts his Yale and Harvard credentials, entered the Eastern District of Pennsylvania’s legal arena with a penchant for tough cases and an even tougher demeanor.
His resume boasts courtroom triumphs in matters that seemed nearly impossible. But for all his high-profile victories, it is his role in blocking Philadelphia’s supervised injection sites and perpetuating aggressive, corrupt law enforcement strategies in areas like Kensington that brands him as a traitor to the city’s underprivileged.
A War Against Philadelphia’s Vulnerable
McSwain led the charge in United States v. Safehouse, a case that blocked the establishment of supervised injection sites in Philadelphia. Safehouse aimed to be the first legal, supervised space in the country where individuals struggling with addiction could use drugs under medical supervision, minimizing overdose deaths.
For those living in Kensington, a neighborhood riddled with the scars of the opioid epidemic, Safehouse offered a glimmer of hope.
Yet, McSwain wielded the federal Controlled Substances Act like a bludgeon, hammering down a city-led initiative that many considered Philadelphia’s best chance at reducing drug-related deaths.
In the opioid epidemic’s wake, advocates argue that McSwain’s actions merely deepened the chasm between law enforcement and those in dire need of healthcare. His steadfast opposition to Safehouse disregarded a community’s desperate call for help, effectively leaving residents of Kensington to fend for themselves. His strategy has drawn stark criticism, with detractors seeing it not as tough-on-crime justice but as a callous betrayal.
A Legal Legacy or a Legacy of Betrayal?
McSwain’s legal history paints him as a meticulous and strategic lawyer who knows how to win. He successfully fought for Chester County, Pennsylvania, to keep a historic Ten Commandments plaque on its courthouse and represented the Boy Scouts of America in a widely publicized First Amendment battle.
He even took on Intel in a case that helped set a legal precedent on internet trespass, establishing his reputation as a defender of hard-fought victories.
But what kind of legacy does he leave behind in Philadelphia? Unlike his celebrated cases, McSwain’s opposition to progressive drug policy signals a significant ideological departure from the city’s grassroots efforts to address addiction humanely.
Some have called his legal maneuvers a “hollow victory”, one that sidesteps the fundamental question, who, exactly, did McSwain’s policies protect?
For Kensington’s families, residents, and addicts, it wasn’t them.
A Corporate-Driven Agenda?
Since stepping down as U.S. Attorney, McSwain has assumed a senior role at a prominent Philadelphia law firm, co-chairing its White-Collar Criminal Defense, Corporate Investigations, and Regulatory Compliance Group.
Critics do not miss the irony. This is the same man who cracked down on harm reduction but now advises corporate giants on navigating the federal regulation landscape.
In this private-sector role, he advocates for some of the wealthiest clients who can afford his high-powered legal counsel, clients who might have as little stake in Kensington’s well-being as he seemed to.
Many view this as the ultimate betrayal of the people he once vowed to serve, painting McSwain as a Benedict Arnold who left public service only to serve elite interests.
To some, his hardened approach as a U.S. Attorney merely paved the way for this next act, a lucrative legal career where he can flex his legal muscle in favor of those far removed from the consequences of his previous policies.
“When a slave becomes an happy slave he effectively erase all that which is human; I have found that, to make a contented slave, it is necessary to make a thoughtless one…He must be able to detect no inconsistencies in slavery; he must be made to feel that slavery is right, and he can be brought to that only when he ceases to be a man.”
Frederick Douglas
The Federal Loophole and Policing for Profit
McSwain’s tenure also intersected with broader systemic issues, such as civil asset forfeiture, a controversial practice often criticized for enabling “policing for profit.” Civil asset forfeiture allows law enforcement to seize property suspected of being tied to criminal activity without requiring a criminal conviction. While many states have attempted to curtail this practice, the federal equitable sharing program provides a lucrative loophole.
Under this program allows local and state law enforcement to collaborate with federal agencies to seize assets, bypassing state-level reforms. Up to 80% of proceeds from these seizures are returned to local agencies, incentivizing revenue-driven policing.
In 2023 alone, the Department of Justice distributed nearly $474 million through equitable sharing. Despite growing calls for reform, no state has fully opted out of the program, leaving communities vulnerable to financial exploitation disguised as law enforcement.
McSwain’s legacy cannot be divorced from this context.
His support for aggressive policing strategies and resistance to harm reduction aligns with a system that profits from punitive measures against the most vulnerable.
Critics argue that this approach prioritizes financial and ideological gains over the well-being of the communities he served.
Federal asset forfeiture, originally conceived as a scalpel to excise the financial lifeblood of drug cartels and organized crime, devolved into a blunt instrument of oppression under William McSwain’s stewardship.
One might say McSwain wielded this power with the finesse of a Revolutionary War turncoat, say Benedict Arnold, but instead of betraying a fledgling nation for British gold, McSwain sold out justice in Pennsylvania for the jangling coins of forfeiture profits.
HOWEVER, THE LIST OF MCSWAINS’ CAMPAIGN DONORS
Asset forfeiture, for the uninitiated, allows law enforcement to seize property merely suspected of being connected to criminal activity, no pesky trials or burdens of proof required. In McSwain’s hands, this became less a law enforcement tool and more a license to plunder.
Much like Arnold’s infamous defection, McSwain’s exploitation of forfeiture laws betrayed the principles he was sworn to uphold.
Take, for example, his office’s enthusiasm for seizing cash from innocent airport travelers. One particularly galling incident involved a small business owner carrying $30,000 to purchase supplies. Armed with little more than suspicion (and perhaps the knowledge that this individual lacked the resources to mount an immediate legal challenge), the DOJ’s team swooped in, confiscating the funds.
While public outcry eventually forced their hand to return the money, it resembled Benedict Arnold’s failed attempt to hand over West Point: opportunistic, clumsy, and dripping with self-interest.
In another Arnold-esque betrayal of public trust, McSwain’s office seized property from families on the flimsiest of pretexts. In one DOJ case, a family lost their property simply because a distant relative had allegedly sold marijuana there.
The DOJ’s dogged insistence on keeping the home was eventually thwarted by public outrage, but not before the family endured months of legal limbo. One imagines the DOJ’s office justifying such actions with the kind of moral reasoning that might have appealed to Benedict Arnold himself: If we don’t take it, someone else will.
The beneficiaries of McSwain’s modern-day pillaging were not the public but his own office. Millions flowed into coffers, fueling a profit-driven approach prioritizing revenue over righteousness.
Like Arnold counting his British pounds, McSwain seemed to revel in the spoils while Philadelphia communities bore the brunt of his actions. Marginalized groups, particularly low-income individuals and people of color, were disproportionately targeted, their lives upended for the sake of McSwain’s financial windfalls.
Not content to merely exploit existing loopholes, McSwain channeled his inner Benedict Arnold by creatively undermining safeguards meant to prevent abuse. His office frequently “adopted” state-level cases to sidestep stricter state laws, effectively thumbing its nose at any semblance of oversight. This audacious maneuvering would make even the most treacherous historical figures nod in grudging admiration.
The parallels to Benedict Arnold don’t end there. Just as Arnold’s treachery galvanized calls for vigilance against betrayal, McSwain’s antics have ignited demands for comprehensive reform of asset forfeiture laws.
His tenure serves as a vivid cautionary tale, a reminder that unchecked power in the wrong hands or, dare we say, McSwain’s hands, can devastate the principles of justice it purports to serve.
and In the end
In the end, McSwain’s legacy may not rival Arnold’s in the annals of American infamy, but it certainly earns him a dishonorable mention. Where Benedict Arnold betrayed a nation for personal gain, McSwain betrayed the public trust, tarnishing the justice system to pursue his forfeiture empire.
Perhaps it’s time to ask when a zeal for seizing assets becomes a forfeiture of one’s moral compass. For all his victories and accolades, his stance against harm reduction in Kensington and beyond has left a lasting imprint. It is a legacy of scorched-earth policy in a City of Brotherly Love struggling for solutions.
Philadelphia deserves leaders who will address its crises with compassion and pragmatism, not those who betray the most vulnerable and call it victory.
McSwain’s legacy, punctuated by his fight against Safehouse, remains a reminder of what happens when public servants serve ideology over the community, when the defenders of justice become, in their way, traitors to the people they were meant to protect.
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Citations:
- H.B. 2477, 53rd Leg., Reg. Sess. (Ariz. 2017); H.B. 336/S.B. 161, 2016 Leg., 436th Sess. (Md. 2016); L.B. 1106, 2015–16 Leg., 104th Leg. Sess. (Neb. 2016); H.B. 560, 2015 Leg., 52nd Leg. Sess. (N.M. 2015); H.B. 347, 131st Gen. Assemb., Reg. Sess. (Ohio 2017).↑[Back to Text]
- Authors’ calculations based on DOJ’s Consolidated Assets Tracking System, updated April 3, 2020, https://www.justice.gov/afp/freedom-information-act↑[Back to Text]
- L.B. 1106, 2015–16 Leg., 104th Leg. Sess. (Neb. 2016).↑[Back to Text]
- S.B. 8, Pa. Gen. Assemb., Reg. Sess. 2017–18 (Pa. 2018); D.C. Council, Civil Asset Forfeiture Amendment Act of 2014, 20-48. (2014).↑[Back to Text]
- S.B. 443, 2015–16 Leg. Sess., Reg. Sess. (Cal. 2016); H.B. 17-1313, 71st Gen. Assemb., Reg. Sess. (Colo. 2016).↑[Back to Text]
- California permits law enforcement to keep equitable sharing proceeds from forfeitures less than $40,000 provided the federal government has secured a criminal conviction against a defendant for a crime giving rise to forfeiture. S.B. 443, 2015–16 Leg. Sess., Reg. Sess. (Cal. 2016).↑[Back to Text]
- Called the Law Enforcement Assistance Grant Program, this is a different program than the Law Enforcement Community Services Grant Program, though they were created by the same reform. Because the LEAGP is funded legislatively, and not by forfeiture proceeds, this report does not count it toward Colorado’s financial incentive. H.B. 18-1020, 72nd Gen. Assemb., Reg. Sess. (Colo. 2018); Goodland, 2018.↑[Back to Text]
- S.B. 61, Reg. Sess. (Wis. 2018) (adding subsection (1)(r) to Wis. Stat. § 961.55).↑[Back to Text]
- McDonald, 2018.↑[Back to Text]
