Michelle Esquenazi, President of NABA

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a proposal to censure two Bozeman municipal judges for alleged misconduct—should have been a moment of bipartisan courage, a principled stand against judicial abuse. Instead, it is on the brink of being buried—not by the facts, not by the law, but by the oldest weapon in the political arsenal: fearmongering.

At the heart of HR4 is a disturbing narrative. A decorated Army veteran and bail agent, John Looney, was targeted after filing ethics complaints against Judges J. Colleen Herrington and Karolina Tierney. The judges allegedly retaliated by revoking his bonding privileges—despite lacking legal authority—and then demanded that he withdraw his complaints if he wanted to regain them. This isn’t speculation; a federal court has already found these actions troubling enough to strip the judges of their judicial immunity and issue a preliminary injunction against them.

Despite that, Montana’s legislative process has been hijacked by manufactured legal panic and political misdirection. HR4, which is a non-binding resolution with no legal penalty, has been accused of being a “bill of attainder,” “defamatory,” and “a violation of due process.” These claims are not only legally unsound—they are intentionally misleading.

The reality is simpler: HR4 is a constitutionally protected expression of legislative sentiment. It does not fire judges, fine them, or remove them from the bench. It merely calls out what many believe to be gross misconduct and calls for resignation. Yet, lawmakers are being told—falsely—that passing it could subject them to lawsuits. They’re warned that they’re meddling in judicial independence. They’re scolded for “setting a dangerous precedent.”

All this posturing obscures the real danger: that the Legislature might lose the backbone to hold power accountable when it matters most.

Today’s procedural twist is a perfect example. A motion on the House floor challenged whether HR4 complied with House rules as a resolution. The Speaker ruled that it did. But 15 lawmakers stood up to challenge that ruling, sending it to the Rules Committee. There, the vote deadlocked 11–11. Because of the tie, the Committee did not recommend upholding the Speaker’s ruling.

Now, the resolution’s fate rests with the full House. Tomorrow, under Order of Business #2, legislators will vote on whether to concur with the Rules Committee. A YES vote means HR4 dies, never reaching the floor for a full debate. A NO vote means it survives and moves forward to a second reading next week.

And here’s the tragic irony: many lawmakers know the allegations are serious. Many admit—privately—that the judiciary overstepped. But they are being scared out of action by party-line pressures, manufactured legal doubts, and whispers that this isn’t “the Legislature’s place.”

If HR4 is killed tomorrow, it won’t be because the judges were exonerated. It won’t be because the Legislature lacked evidence. It will be because political fearmongering succeeded in doing what raw misconduct could not—silencing accountability.

This moment will be remembered. Either Montana’s House shows it can speak truth to power—or it proves that even in the face of documented abuse, political self-preservation wins. The choice, and the consequences, now lie with 100 elected officials. And the people of Montana are watching.

Michelle Esquenazi is the president of The National Association of Bail Agents, the president of the NYS Bail Association, and the CEO of Empire Bail Bonds, New York’s largest family-owned secured bail company. She is also the founder of The Victims Rights Reform Council.