Johnson City Survivors Were Ignored Because the System Protects Men Like Sean Williams

Ronan Farrow’s March 24, 2025, New Yorker article on the case of Sean Williams, one of America’s most prolific sexual predators, exposes more than just individual evil—it reveals systemic rot. For years, Williams drugged, raped, and recorded assaults on dozens of women and children in Johnson City, Tennessee, while local police ignored, dismissed, or even enabled his crimes, according to Farrow’s reporting. Federal prosecutor Kat Dahl’s efforts to hold him accountable were met with obstruction, retaliation, and eventual firing.

Police as Enablers, Not Protectors

From the beginning, the Johnson City Police Department (JCPD) appears to have treated Williams with alarming deference. When Mikayla Evans fell five stories from his apartment—an incident suggesting foul play—officers delayed securing evidence, allowed Williams to tamper with security footage, and left his apartment unsupervised, according to the New Yorker article. Later, when Dahl pushed to investigate rape allegations, detectives are alleged to have shrugged off victims, mocked her concerns, and slow-walked warrants. Their indifference wasn’t accidental; it was systemic.

Williams himself claimed he bribed officers through an ex-girlfriend, Alunda Rutherford, alleging payoffs to avoid scrutiny. While these claims are contested, the JCPD’s behavior fits a pattern: according to the audit by the Daigle Law Group, between 2018-2022 officers failed to even interview suspects in 69 out of 105 rape cases with identified perpetrators, routinely closed sexual assault investigations prematurely, and ultimately paid a $28 million settlement to survivors—a tacit admission of systemic failure.

Class, Power, and Impunity

Business owners like Sean Williams get treated as a special class of people that are better than the rest of us. He wasn’t just some lone criminal—he was a wealthy businessman embedded in local power structures. His depredations were open secrets, his drug trafficking an unspoken perk for those who turned a blind eye. Even while evading arrest, he moved freely, exchanging texts with one prominent real estate agent, according to court records, and selling at least three properties in Johnson City. This is how class operates under capitalism: connections and capital buy impunity, while working-class victims—especially women—are disbelieved, shamed, or ignored.

The police’s contempt for survivors reflects broader societal problems. Victims like Briana Pack and Kaleigh Murray were dismissed as unreliable—too drunk, too traumatized, or too “uncooperative.” When Dahl warned that Williams might be targeting children, Chief Karl Turner brushed her off. Compare this to how police treat petty theft or drug use among the poor: relentless pursuit, brutal enforcement, and prison time. The system punishes regular people while shielding predators who operate with money and influence.

The Failures of “Justice” Under Capitalism

The JCPD’s internal report admitted systemic failures—interrogating victims like they were suspects, closing rape cases without investigation—but no high-ranking officials faced consequences. Instead, the city has agreed to pay $28 million in an attempt to bury accountability under legal settlements.

This isn’t unique to Johnson City. Across the U.S., police departments resist oversight, budgets balloon while social services starve, and survivors of sexual violence are gaslit by the very systems allegedly intended to protect them. The Williams case is extreme but not exceptional—it’s the logical endpoint of a capitalist system where justice is commodified and power and wealth flow to those who already have the most power and wealth.

Johnson City Needs a People’s Budget, Not a Bigger Police Budget

According to the Tennessee Lookout, City Manager Cathy Ball “has had the power to initiate an internal affairs investigation for the past two years that could scrutinize the actions and conduct of those implicated in the Williams case, including herself.”

Instead, Ball ordered any internal investigation be put on hold until the resolution of the class action lawsuit, court records show. That lawsuit is settled. What now?

Change won’t come from polite requests. It will take organized tenants, workers, and survivors showing up at town halls, budget meetings, and elections to demand justice.

For a start, we are calling for community-based Town Halls to discuss this issue, as well as future issues, where the Johnson City Commission can listen to us without the strict limits that city commission meetings place on our time and our experiences, where only twelve people can speak for a total of three minutes each. We need to have a say in what happens next.

But transparency and dialogue are not enough. There is also the question of money. At the time Dahl filed her federal civil complaint in June 2022, the city budget granted police $15,526,561 of the General Fund. The current city budget, drafted by Ball’s office last year and approved by our current mayor and three of our sitting commissioners, increased that figure to $19,370,928. That’s a raise of nearly four million dollars for a police department whose malpractice is set to cost us tens of millions more, to say nothing of the harm it facilitated.

The choice before Johnson City is about priorities.

We demand the Johnson City Commission freeze the police budget and invest funds where they belong: in public trauma care for survivors, affordable housing to stabilize families, and mental health responders and mediation teams that replace police where appropriate. These aren’t radical ideas—they’re what happens when we put victims before wealthy business owners.

Change won’t come from polite requests. It will take organized tenants, workers, and survivors showing up at town halls, budget meetings, and elections to demand justice. The money exists. The power exists. The people must come together and demand it.