Matt Platkin, appointed by Governor Phil Murphy and confirmed in 2022, was billed as a reformer committed to transparency and fairness. Yet his tenure has been marked by selective enforcement and a troubling pattern of political protectionism. From the start, Platkin has been widely viewed not as an independent watchdog, but as a political loyalist—Murphy’s man in Trenton, willing to safeguard allies and go after critics when convenient.

Sending detectives to confiscate personal phones based on nothing more than an accusation of talking to a journalist reeks of political retaliation, not justice. Platkin has effectively transformed the Attorney General’s Office into a political shield for the entrenched Democratic power structure. Instead of combating corruption, he is enabling it.

The Brian Stack Factor

Brian Stack’s control over Union City and Hudson County politics has long been legendary. His machine thrives on loyalty, fear, and the blurring of lines between government authority and political enforcement. The officers caught up in this latest spectacle are collateral damage in Stack’s endless campaign to silence opposition.

But what is more alarming is how easily Platkin’s office has allowed itself to be co-opted into Stack’s political war. By lending the credibility of the state’s highest law enforcement office to such a dubious pursuit, Platkin has legitimized the notion that political enemies can and will be targeted with the full weight of the state.

Misuse of State Resources

Every detective hour spent executing political raids is an hour not spent combating real crime. Every taxpayer dollar used to intimidate whistleblowers is a dollar stolen from communities that need safer streets, better public safety, and honest government. Platkin’s decision to mobilize state resources for this witch-hunt against two local officers is an insult to the people of New Jersey.

The Attorney General’s Office is entrusted with vast powers and a broad mandate, including overseeing county prosecutors and police departments statewide. But under Platkin, those powers are being squandered on political errands for the Democratic establishment.

Platkin’s Pattern of Politicized Justice

This is not an isolated incident—it fits a broader trend. Platkin has consistently walked in lockstep with the Murphy administration, defending its policies while turning a blind eye to corruption in Democratic strongholds. Critics argue he has selectively pursued investigations to avoid embarrassing party bosses, all while amplifying cases that fit neatly into the Democrats’ narrative of political dominance.

In doing so, Platkin has reduced the Attorney General’s Office to little more than an arm of the party apparatus. His actions echo the same political tactics Democrats have employed nationally against President Donald J. Trump: use the language of “justice” while deploying the machinery of law enforcement for political ends.

A Democracy in Name Only

When journalists, whistleblowers, or police officers cannot speak freely without fear of state reprisal, democracy is nothing more than a disguise. What is happening in Union City is not just a local matter; it is a warning to every citizen in New Jersey.

Platkin’s behavior demonstrates that the Attorney General’s Office is no longer functioning as an independent guardian of the people but has instead become a political instrument to protect insiders like Brian Stack and Governor Murphy. This is how democracies die—not with one dramatic collapse, but with a steady corrosion of trust, accountability, and freedom, overseen by leaders like Matt Platkin who confuse their duty to the people with their loyalty to the machine.

The Path Forward

New Jerseyans deserve an Attorney General who enforces the law without fear or favor, not one who weaponizes it for political purposes. They deserve leaders who prioritize justice, not self-preservation. Platkin has proven himself incapable of meeting that standard.

The raid on these officers is not just an attack on them—it is an attack on free speech, journalism, and the public’s right to know. It is proof that the state’s top law enforcement office is compromised, corrupted by the very political forces it should be investigating.

Until Matt Platkin is held accountable, New Jersey’s democracy will remain democracy in name only—its substance hollowed out by a political machine that thrives on intimidation and control.

Union City, Nueva Jersey — El Distrito Escolar de Union City se encuentra al borde del colapso. A pesar de recibir cientos de millones de dólares en fondos estatales y federales cada año, el distrito ha despedido maestros, eliminado programas extracurriculares, suspendido el servicio de transporte escolar y recortado apoyos críticos como ABA y educación temprana. Familias y empleados están indignados: con tanto financiamiento, ¿cómo es posible que los estudiantes reciban menos?

La respuesta, señalan los críticos, está en la máquina política del alcalde y senador estatal Brian Stack. El alcalde, que ejerce una influencia desproporcionada sobre el distrito gracias a su poder de nombrar a la Junta de Educación, ha convertido las escuelas de Union City en un sistema de clientelismo político que prioriza empleos para sus aliados por encima de las aulas y los estudiantes.

Financiamiento millonario, servicios mínimos

Union City es uno de los distritos más financiados en todo Nueva Jersey:

En 2023–24, el distrito reportó casi 389 millones de dólares en ingresos operativos, de los cuales unos 242 millones provinieron del estado. Por cada estudiante, Union City recibe más del doble de ayuda que muchos distritos vecinos, incluidos Jersey City y North Bergen.

Sin embargo, pese a este dinero, el distrito ha reducido servicios esenciales. Los maestros pierden sus empleos, los programas extracurriculares desaparecen y los apoyos de educación especial se reducen al mínimo. Los padres se preguntan dónde está realmente ese dinero.

Excusas falsas frente a la realidad

Los funcionarios del distrito han intentado justificar estos recortes culpando a la pandemia de COVID-19, a la inflación e incluso a políticas federales. Pero estas explicaciones no resisten análisis.

Es cierto que a nivel nacional se ha impulsado la reducción del gasto desperdiciado. Pero precisamente de eso se trata: si Union City hubiera utilizado sus fondos de manera responsable, no existiría ninguna crisis. La única razón por la que el distrito “siente” el impacto de cualquier recorte es porque ha decidido gastar el dinero en mantener empleos políticos innecesarios, no en los estudiantes.

Como dijo un docente frustrado: “Si realmente invirtieran en los niños primero, no estaríamos en esta situación. Lo único que les preocupa es proteger su sistema de favores políticos.”

Una nueva escuela de $93,7 millones en medio de la escasez

Mientras faltan recursos en las aulas, Union City avanza con la construcción de la Academia Esther Salas, un nuevo colegio intermedio de seis pisos para 900 estudiantes, con un costo de 93,7 millones de dólares, programado para abrir en 2025.

Aunque los funcionarios presentan el proyecto como un símbolo de progreso, muchos residentes lo consideran un monumento vacío. “¿De qué sirve un edificio nuevo”, preguntó un padre, “si no hay suficientes maestros, programas ni servicios dentro?”

Una Junta de Educación sometida al alcalde

A diferencia de la mayoría de los distritos en Nueva Jersey, la Junta de Educación de Union City no es elegida por los ciudadanos. Es un distrito de Tipo I, lo que significa que sus siete miembros son designados directamente por el alcalde.

Este esquema otorga a Brian Stack un poder enorme sobre un sistema en el que, legalmente, no debería tener injerencia. En la práctica, Stack controla la junta y asegura que responda a él y no a los estudiantes.

El resultado es un distrito donde la lealtad política pesa más que la preparación profesional. Docentes y empleados denuncian una cultura de presión política constante, en la que las promociones y la estabilidad laboral dependen de las contribuciones a las campañas o del activismo a favor del alcalde.

Puestos de clientelismo: política sobre educación

Uno de los ejemplos más claros de estos nombramientos políticos es el cargo de Mercedes Joaquín, pareja de Stack, como directora de Relaciones Comunitarias del distrito. Para los críticos, se trata de un típico puesto clientelista: alto salario, funciones difusas y ningún beneficio directo para las aulas.

Otros aliados de Stack ocupan cargos similares, muchos de ellos creados artificialmente, consumiendo recursos que podrían pagar maestros, asistentes o programas estudiantiles.

Al mismo tiempo, empleados describen un ambiente de intimidación. Justin Mercado, secretario de la Junta, ha sido acusado de acosar a los trabajadores, presionarlos para hacer contribuciones políticas y silenciar a quienes se oponen. Los maestros afirman que se ven obligados a “jugar a la política” simplemente para conservar sus empleos.

Los estudiantes, las verdaderas víctimas

Los más perjudicados en este esquema son los niños de Union City. Mientras los allegados al poder cobran salarios y se premia la lealtad política, los estudiantes quedan sin transporte, sin programas extracurriculares y sin apoyos adecuados en educación especial.

Los padres y contribuyentes exigen respuestas. Con casi 400 millones de dólares a su disposición, ¿cómo puede el distrito seguir diciendo que no tiene dinero? ¿Por qué siempre se recortan maestros y programas, pero nunca los puestos políticos creados para beneficio de los aliados del alcalde?

Conclusión: Urge rendición de cuentas

Las escuelas de Union City deberían ser un ejemplo de éxito — una prueba de lo que puede lograrse cuando una comunidad recibe un fuerte respaldo estatal. En cambio, se han convertido en una advertencia de lo que ocurre cuando la política reemplaza a la profesionalidad.

El alcalde Brian Stack y su Junta de Educación, elegida a dedo, han creado un sistema en el que primero va el clientelismo, y al final los estudiantes. El distrito ya no puede esconderse detrás de excusas sobre la pandemia o la política federal. La verdad es más simple y demoledora: la crisis de Union City es autoinfligida, producto de la mala gestión y la corrupción política.

Hasta que se reforme el distrito y se rompa el control del alcalde sobre la educación, los niños de Union City seguirán pagando el precio más alto: su futuro.

Union City, NJ — The Union City School District is at a breaking point. Despite receiving hundreds of millions of dollars in state and federal funding every year, the district has laid off teachers, gutted afterschool programs, eliminated bus service, and cut critical ABA and early education support. Families and staff are furious: with this level of funding, how is it possible that students are left with less?

The answer, critics charge, lies in Mayor and State Senator Brian Stack’s political machine. The mayor, who wields outsized influence over the district through his power to appoint the Board of Education, has turned Union City schools into a patronage system that prioritizes jobs for his allies over classrooms for students.

Massive Funding, Minimal Services

Union City has been described by state and local leaders as one of the most heavily funded school districts in New Jersey:

In 2023–24, the district reported nearly $389 million in operating revenue, with about $242 million in state aid alone. On a per-student basis, Union City receives more than double the aid of many neighboring districts, including Jersey City and North Bergen.

Yet even with this money, the district has slashed services. Teachers have lost their jobs, afterschool programs have disappeared, and special education supports have been reduced to bare minimums. Parents are left to wonder where the money is actually going.

Excuses vs. Reality

District officials have tried to justify these reductions by pointing to “budget cuts” from outside forces — blaming COVID-19, inflation, and even federal spending policies. But critics argue these explanations don’t hold up.

Yes, at the national level, there has been a push to rein in wasteful spending. But that is exactly the point: if Union City’s funds were being used responsibly, there would be no need for panic. The only reason the district feels the impact of any reduction is because of how it has chosen to spend its money.

Instead of directing resources to the classroom, Union City has ballooned its payroll with unnecessary, politically created jobs. The salaries of these positions — often six figures — eat away at the district’s budget, leaving less for the very students the system exists to serve.

As one frustrated teacher put it: “If they actually put the money on the kids first, we wouldn’t be in this situation. The only cuts they feel are the ones that threaten their patronage system.”

A $93.7 Million Building Amid Shortages

Even as staff and students are squeezed, Union City is spending nearly $94 million on a new middle school, the Esther Salas Academy, scheduled to open in 2025. The six-story, 900-student facility is funded by the state Schools Development Authority.

While officials tout the project as a sign of growth, many see it as an empty symbol. “What good is a new building,” one parent asked, “if there aren’t enough teachers, programs, or services inside it?”

The Board of Education: Puppets of the Mayor

Unlike most districts in New Jersey, Union City’s Board of Education is not elected by the public. It is a Type I district, meaning its seven board members are appointed directly by the mayor.

This structure gives Brian Stack enormous leverage over a system he should have no direct role in. By law, the mayor of Union City has no authority to run the schools. But by controlling the appointments, Stack ensures that the board serves him, not the students.

The result is a district where loyalty to the mayor matters more than professional qualifications. Teachers and staff report a culture where political pressure is constant, and promotions are linked to political contributions or campaign work.

Patronage Positions: Politics Over Education

Among the most glaring examples of political hiring is the appointment of Mercedes Joaquin, Stack’s girlfriend, as the district’s Director of Community Relations. Critics call this a textbook patronage job: high salary, vague responsibilities, and no direct connection to classroom improvement.

Other allies of Stack hold similar positions, many of them created out of thin air, soaking up funds that could otherwise pay for teachers, aides, or student programs.

Meanwhile, staff describe an atmosphere of intimidation. Board Secretary Justin Mercado has been accused of harassing employees, pressuring them for political contributions, and silencing dissent. Teachers say they are forced to “play politics” just to keep their jobs, in direct violation of the principle that schools should be neutral spaces of learning.

Students Pay the Price

The losers in this equation are the children of Union City. While insiders collect salaries and political loyalty is rewarded, students are left without buses, without afterschool programs, and without sufficient special education support.

Parents and taxpayers are demanding answers. With nearly $400 million at its disposal, why does Union City still claim poverty? Why are staff and families told there is “no money” when salaries for political appointees are never on the chopping block?

Conclusion: Accountability Needed Now

Union City schools should be a success story — proof of what can be achieved when a community receives significant state support. Instead, they have become a cautionary tale of what happens when politics replaces professionalism.

Mayor Brian Stack and his handpicked Board of Education have created a system where patronage comes first, students come last. The district cannot continue to hide behind excuses about COVID or federal policy. The truth is simpler, and more damning: Union City’s crisis is self-inflicted, the product of mismanagement and political corruption.

Until the district is reformed and the mayor’s grip over education is broken, Union City’s children will continue to pay the highest price — their future.