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What Matters Now

• California’s judicial watchdog opted for admonishment instead of removal, despite threats of violence from the bench
• Judge Enrique Monguia told lawyers he would “shoot counsel himself” and blamed a domestic violence victim for her abuse
• Critics say the Commission’s weak discipline emboldens misconduct and erodes public trust in the judiciary

LOS ANGELES, CA - It is one of the most disturbing judicial misconduct cases in recent memory, yet the California Commission on Judicial Performance (CJP) decided last week that Judge Enrique Monguia’s behavior merits nothing more than a public admonishment. That decision is not only disappointing—it is dangerous. It signals to the public, to lawyers, and to litigants that even repeated threats of violence, blatant bias, and callous treatment of vulnerable parties can be brushed aside with a scolding rather than real accountability.

Between 2019 and 2024, Judge Monguia, a Los Angeles County Superior Court judge, engaged in a pattern of inappropriate conduct from the bench that shocked attorneys and defendants alike. He threatened to shoot lawyers, told a domestic violence victim she was partly to blame for her assault, and forced a young mother to surrender her three-year-old child during a hearing where he inexplicably remanded her into custody. The commission documented each of these incidents in detail—yet somehow concluded that a slap on the wrist would suffice.

The CJP’s 17-page admonishment outlines one alarming incident after another. In September 2023, Monguia ordered Danielle Alexander, a mother in court without her appointed attorney, to be immediately arrested. A public defender unaffiliated with the case pleaded with the judge to allow probation, even volunteering to appear as “friend of the court.” Monguia ignored the plea, had Alexander remanded, and left her toddler in the custody of strangers until family could be located. Only later that day did he reverse course, appoint counsel, and release her—demonstrating that the harm was unnecessary and avoidable.

In another courtroom confrontation, he threatened to “shoot” an assistant public defender for speaking too loudly. A month later, he joked that he would have ordered a bailiff to shoot retired Judge Stephen Marcus, who tried to use a staff entrance. These were not mere “off-color” jokes—they were violent threats uttered in the sanctity of a courtroom, an environment where citizens must feel safe and respected.

And perhaps most egregious, Monguia told a victim of felony domestic assault that she was “partly responsible” for becoming a victim, invoking the chilling phrase, “It takes two to tango.” According to the commission, this comment demeaned the victim and suggested she bore responsibility for her abuse. That alone should have been disqualifying for continued judicial service.

The CJP acknowledged that Monguia’s actions were improper and that he violated judicial canons requiring respect, impartiality, and sensitivity. Yet, after listing each incident, the Commission leaned on Monguia’s “expressed regret and remorse,” accepting his assurance that he has taken steps to address unconscious bias and other issues.

Let’s be clear: remorse offered only after exposure and formal inquiry is not genuine reform—it is self-preservation. If Monguia had not been caught, these behaviors would have continued unchecked. By relying on his professed contrition, the Commission effectively rewarded a judge for being able to apologize convincingly rather than holding him accountable for the serious harm he inflicted.

Judicial office is not a right; it is a solemn duty. Judges wield immense power over people’s lives, liberty, and rights. When a judge abuses that power by threatening violence or belittling victims, the damage ripples beyond the parties in the case. It erodes trust in the entire justice system.

Admonishment—the lowest form of public discipline—does not restore public trust. It trivializes the misconduct and signals to other judges that even the most offensive conduct will be tolerated if followed by a half-hearted apology. The public deserves better.

The Commission had the authority to impose stronger discipline, including suspension or removal. By choosing admonishment, it shirked its responsibility to safeguard the integrity of the judiciary. This leniency is not just misguided—it is reckless. It will embolden judges who already test ethical boundaries, and it will discourage victims and attorneys from speaking out.

California’s judiciary cannot afford to look the other way. If the Commission is unwilling to act decisively, then the public and the legislature must demand reform. The judicial discipline system must prioritize public confidence over institutional protectionism.

Judge Monguia’s conduct was not a one-time lapse of judgment. It was a sustained pattern of disrespect, bias, and abuse of authority. The fact that the Commission chose not to remove him raises an unavoidable question: if threatening to shoot lawyers, belittling a domestic violence victim, and needlessly traumatizing a mother and her child do not justify removal, what does?

As someone who has spent decades inside courtrooms, I know how fragile public confidence in the judiciary can be. Once eroded, it is difficult to rebuild. Every time a judge like Monguia is allowed to stay on the bench, faith in the rule of law weakens. And when the watchdogs charged with enforcing accountability refuse to use their teeth, they become complicit in the misconduct they claim to condemn.

The Commission’s failure here is profound. California deserves judges who embody dignity, impartiality, and respect—not those who weaponize the bench to demean, threaten, or intimidate. The people of California deserve more than a symbolic admonishment. They deserve real accountability.