New York Governor Kathy Hochul’s stealth pardon of a convicted killer has ignited a firestorm of criticism, as The Blaze reports. On July 1, she quietly granted clemency to Sammy Vatthanavong, a noncitizen facing deportation, in a move that critics -- including those within the Trump administration -- argue undermines public safety for political gain. The decision, only revealed after a New York Times report, raises questions about transparency in Albany.
Hochul’s pardon halted Vatthanavong’s deportation to Laos, scheduled just one day later. This act mirrors her 2022 pardons of nine foreign nationals convicted of crimes like drug dealing and robbery. Vatthanavong, now 52, entered the U.S. as a refugee from Laos at age 7, but his past includes a violent crime that many say should disqualify him from such leniency.
In 1988, Vatthanavong killed an unarmed man in a Brooklyn pool hall, claiming self-defense. Convicted of first-degree manslaughter in 1990, he served 14 years in prison and lost his green card. Hochul’s decision to pardon him, backed by liberal groups like Mekong NYC, has sparked accusations of prioritizing activist agendas over justice.
Mekong NYC, a Southeast Asian-focused organization, and the Asian American Legal Defense and Education Fund lobbied for months to secure Vatthanavong’s pardon. They argued deportation was imminent without it, a claim confirmed by Department of Homeland Security spokeswoman Tricia McLaughlin. Yet, the pardon’s secretive nature has fueled distrust among New Yorkers.
“Clemency is a powerful tool that can be exercised to advance the interests of justice and fairness,” Hochul said in 2022. Her lofty rhetoric rings hollow when pardons are issued behind closed doors, critics argue. Transparency, not secrecy, should guide decisions affecting public safety.
Republican Rep. Elise Stefanik slammed Hochul, calling the pardon “heinous” and accusing her of “putting criminals first instead of law-abiding New Yorkers.” Stefanik’s point hits hard: a governor must protect citizens, not shield those who’ve taken lives. Hochul’s discreet approach only deepens suspicions of political motives.
Vatthanavong’s supporters claim he’s no threat, citing his rehabilitation since his 2004 release. Hochul echoed this, stating, “Unless I believe someone poses a danger, I follow what the Bible tells us: ‘Forgive one another.’” Forgiveness is noble, but bypassing public accountability for a killer’s pardon feels like a betrayal of justice.
“They’ve paid their debt, and I’ll be damned if I let them be deported,” Hochul told the New York Times. Her defiance ignores the victim’s family, who receive no mention in her moral grandstanding. A governor’s compassion should extend to those harmed, not just those seeking second chances.
The Department of Homeland Security’s McLaughlin was blunt: “If you are a convicted criminal alien, you should not have the privilege to be in this country.” Her words reflect a common-sense view that felons, especially those who’ve killed, forfeit certain protections. Hochul’s pardon challenges this principle, raising questions about her priorities.
Mekong NYC called Hochul’s action a “moral responsibility to protect our immigrant communities.” Their rhetoric, steeped in progressive ideals, paints deportation as inherently unjust, even for violent offenders. Such activism may sway Albany, but it risks alienating New Yorkers who value law and order.
Vatthanavong himself celebrated the pardon, saying, “This pardon from Governor Hochul feels like being reborn.” His gratitude is understandable, but his “rebirth” comes at the cost of public trust. A system that rewards a killer’s redemption over accountability invites skepticism.
“Without the community that rallied behind me, I would have been on that deportation flight,” Vatthanavong added. Community support is powerful, but it shouldn’t override the consequences of a manslaughter conviction. Hochul’s reliance on activist pressure suggests a troubling trend in her decision-making.
Hochul’s defenders argue Vatthanavong’s rehabilitation justifies her decision. Yet, the lack of public disclosure until the New York Times broke the story undermines her case. If the pardon was just, why hide it from the people she serves?
Stefanik’s charge that Hochul was “caught red-handed” resonates with those who see this as a pattern of prioritizing politics over principle. The governor’s history of pardoning criminal noncitizens -- nine in 2022 alone -- suggests a calculated effort to appease progressive factions. New Yorkers deserve better than backroom deals.
The Department of Homeland Security is now reviewing whether Vatthanavong can still face deportation. Hochul’s pardon may have delayed justice, but it hasn’t erased the debate over who deserves to stay in America. Her secretive approach only fuels the fire of distrust in her leadership.
