By Ashley Babbitt

Managing Editor

Cub reporter-turned-head honcho in just a few short months.

Then head-honcho started turning heads once weekly opinion pieces began to hit the presses.

My time spent at The Evening Sun has been fantastic; in that anything that has happened in my life since beginning the job, is relatable to a newsroom event or a story that was published.

Managing Editor isn’t simply a job description, title or face of a newspaper. There is so much more behind the scenes that readers don’t get the pleasure of delving into.

Despite all that, I wouldn’t trade this journey I’ve taken for anything.

I remember when the masses were riled up when I wrote about how dancing at the Jefferson Memorial is not lawful.

I recall being present for the first escape from the current Norwich Police Department. She jumped out the window and Detective Reuben Roach and I located her soon after.

Well, it wasn’t long after she jumped out of the window, that I agreed – for some reason – to jump out of a perfectly functional aircraft for the ‘fun’ of it.

Goodness, I would do that every day if could, as a reminder to spend your time living for a living.

But let’s not make this long and sappy; let’s cut it down to brass tacks.

Today is my final edition of The Evening Sun as Managing Editor.

Thank you to all the faithful subscribers who have not only sent me positive letters and emails, but gifts as well. That was unnecessary, but very much appreciated and I’ll forever cherish them.

Any frequent reader of our product could easily see that my topics of interest were crime, court, law … anything that raised my blood pressure a little bit.

Below is an excerpt from a column I wrote and was published in 2014. I interviewed a convicted drug dealer in the local jail, and he told me that the problem is the demand, not the supply. He said he would like to see in-patient treatment facilities in Chenango.

‘Did you all catch that part? The out-of-towner poisoning your community is gone, and won’t be back.

You know what’s not gone? Heroin. Addiction. And the heartbreak caused by the two. Your 30-year-old son is still shooting heroin in his veins. The teenage girl and her friends down the street may break into your garage next week so they can buy a bundle from the Norwich native who is selling out of his apartment around the corner.

Agree with me or not, but I’m with Barry on this one. The method in place isn’t working. It won’t work. Long-term, inpatient treatment, education, and a little compassion just might.’

Sidenote: It only takes a weekend trip to an establishment that serves alcohol to witness hand-to-hand drug transactions conducted by well-known local folks.

Four years ago, I published what follows:

‘First and foremost, life is absurd. I immediately thought of Albert Camus' “The Myth of Sisyphus.” Sisyphus was punished by the gods and was made to roll a rock up a mountain each day for eternity, for the rock to just roll back down to the bottom daily – when Sisyphus would then have to start all over and do it again the next day.

What may seem like destitute circumstances or a horrible situation, there is joy to be found. Be it solely inside yourself, or something that is externally apparent, each of us is consciously choosing to live and that in itself is beautiful.

We've all got our rocks our push – and sometimes they're pretty darn heavy. But, Camus concludes with, “One must imagine Sisyphus happy.”

And I do.’

Here’s to today, slowing down, suspending judgement, and breast strokes through chaos.

Now I clearly didn’t go to law school; I’m just a former psychology and chemical dependency counseling major-turned newspaper editor. But what I’ve witnessed over this past year or so of randomly attending court … there is a problem.

I’ve seen a case where a man stood accused of forcing his female blood relative to perform sexual acts on him. The man was remanded on less than $3,000 cash bail, which was posted that day.

With all my heart, I hope the man is following the piece of paper ordering him to stay away from the alleged victim.

I have seen other cases where persons charged with possessing a plant that grows in the ground is remanded with bail set sometimes three times higher than a father accused of molesting his daughter.

Maybe it’s just me — but hopefully not — there is something wrong here.

I don’t care if you’ve lived in the county your entire life, you’ve been gainfully employed for years, and you have a family … if you’re accused of a sex crime against someone, you should be removed from the situation.

If you’re accused of touching your son, you should wait it out in a cage.

If you’re accused of possessing, let’s say, marijuana, adios, be on your way. Take your case to trial.

I don’t want to see people who may be mentally ill and self-medicating thrown into jail. That’s not where those folks belong.

The folks that belong in a cage are those who have damaged life, liberty or property. And if a small child is brave enough to report a sex crime to the authorities of their own volition, the accused should be remanded to protect the alleged victim.

We all know an order of protection is just a piece of paper.