Editorial: Why Jussie Smollett must be part of the legacy of Cook County State’s Attorney Kim Foxx

In a speech at Chicago’s City Club on Tuesday, Cook County State’s Attorney Kim Foxx announced she would not be seeking reelection and, at the same time, excoriated both the media and her political opponents for what she claimed was their unfair obsession with the case of Jussie Smollett.

“Probably when I leave this earth, my epitaph will mention Jussie Smollett,” Foxx said from the podium. “And it makes me mad.”

In fact, Foxx throughout her speech continually used the name of the actor, who was eventually convicted (a successful prosecution not led by Foxx) of partnering with accomplices and faking a violent, racially motivated attack on a downtown street.

“But you ask me about Jussie ... ” was a rhetorical refrain in Foxx’s legacy-burnishing exit remarks. (And entrance remarks for a potential run for further political office.)

Sure we ask about him and here’s why.

What Foxx failed to understand — and, as far as we can tell, still either fails or willfully chooses not to understand — is that the Smollett case fundamentally was about clout. And when people see clout pay off so massively in the justice system, that understandably infuriates them. Especially those who don’t have much clout themselves, which is the vast majority of those who found themselves interacting with Foxx’s office, or who investigate crime, or who visit their family members in jail.

The “Empire” actor was connected at the highest political levels and at least one powerful phone call, and perhaps several more, was made to a prosecutor who took the call and offered Smollett special treatment. That’s not just our view; the facts in this area mostly are undisputed and special prosecutor Dan Webb came to the same conclusion.

The consequence of that error in judgment was that the police, who had furiously tried to solve a case that had sparked all kinds of pro-Smollett tweets from prominent politicians and celebrities, realized they had been played by an ambitious prosecutor like a character in the deeply cynical musical “Chicago.”

No single event in the recent history of Cook County justice did more to undermine the relationship between the police and the prosecutor’s office.

Let’s be clear. Most reasonable people always understood that Foxx was routinely faced with the need to make decisions about far more dangerous criminals than an actor looking to make headlines and burnish his personal brand. It was also reasonable to expect a resolution that did not involve jail, but instead a sentence to some combination of probation and community service. Cops knew all too well that Smollett was small-bore in their world. There was even some sympathy for the guy from detectives. Nobody wanted him to be sent to jail for years. Everyone could see he had issues.

But Foxx made the profoundly serious mistake of not insisting that he at least plead guilty. Unforgivably, she let him wriggle out of that one, conjuring some weird boutique deal where his past service meant her office would drop the prosecution and allow Smollett’s attorneys to bloviate past the question of whether Smollett had actually faked a hate crime. It was an act for which a different party later convicted him, although the case is on appeal.

That was the issue, Madam State’s Attorney.

And the desired refrain? Not “And you ask about Jussie ...,” but “I made a mistake there and I’ve learned.”

That way, Foxx could justifiably take credit for her many genuine achievements in that office, including her laudable focus on seeking justice rather than merely achieve a conviction, her dedication to freeing those wrongly convicted of crimes, including those there as a consequence of corrupt police practices, her encouragement of future progressive prosecutors and her palpable commitment to equality under the law.

But that didn’t happen with Smollett.

And that’s why people ask Kim Foxx about Jussie, and always will.

Join the discussion on Twitter @chitribopinions and on Facebook.

Submit a letter, of no more than 400 words, to the editor here or email letters@chicagotribune.com.