My opponent says I will be soft on crime while he is, in fact, the definition of soft on crime.
He says public safety depends on his experience. Well, this—the Elliott Binney case—is his experience at work. Experience doesn’t matter when it delivers atrocious results.
This is going to be a little different than my normal stories I report on. Because it hits home, so please excuse my passion and anger.
In 2024, in Bixby, Shelby Binney’s life ended on a road she should have been safe on.
That night didn’t come out of nowhere. It was the result of a chain of decisions that never should have been made, starting with her father, Elliot Binney, getting behind the wheel intoxicated. He had just picked her up from cheer practice, with his wife and other children still in the car, while heavy rain poured down and visibility dropped to almost nothing.
And even in those conditions, he kept going.
At some point during that drive, while arguing with his wife and drinking straight from a bottle of vodka, he chose to pass traffic at high speeds on a rural road where passing wasn’t allowed. When the car hit standing water, he lost control. The vehicle rolled, and Shelby was ejected.
I don’t know if she died instantly, and as a mother, I pray that she did. The alternative is something I don’t even want to fully put into words. The thought of her lying there in the rain while the person who was supposed to protect her made the decision to run is something that will sit heavy with anyone who has ever loved a child.
Because he didn’t stay. He didn’t try to help. He left his injured family behind in that wrecked vehicle, and he left his daughter in the road.
He ran.
He made it to a family member’s house, took another vehicle, and was later found hours away from Bixby.
This wasn’t some isolated mistake that came out of nowhere. It was the result of behavior that had already shown itself before, except this time the outcome was irreversible.
Shelby wasn’t just a name in a report to me. She was part of our lives. She was my daughter’s friend when they were younger, and I coached her in youth cheer. Even as they grew up and went their own directions, Shelby was always spoken about with warmth. She was loved by our community.
Now she’s gone because of decisions that should have been stopped long before that night.
Elliot Binney was charged with first-degree manslaughter, leaving the scene of a fatal crash, two counts of child neglect, reckless driving, transporting an open container, and driving left of center. On top of that, there’s a documented history of reckless driving charges that were repeatedly dismissed.
It was overlooked over and over again. At some point, that’s negligence.
Yesterday, he was offered a plea deal that includes five years in custody, five years of probation, and a judicial review after just two years.
When you read that against what happened that night, it isn’t ok.
A child is dead, and a family is shattered. And we’re already talking about when he might be reviewed for release.
So the question isn’t just about one case. It’s about what this says on a larger scale for our county.
Why does someone with a clear pattern of dangerous behavior get handled this lightly after it escalates to a death?
Why is Tulsa County District Attorney Steve Kunzweiler comfortable signing off on a deal that leaves room for early review in a case like this?
And if, or when, that door opens again, and history repeats itself, who is held accountable for that decision?
Because it won’t be the one who made the deal.
Tulsa, this is where local decisions are so important. These aren’t abstract policies. They are real choices, made by real people, with real consequences.
Kunzweiler is up for re-election, and I’m not sure he deserves it.
If this case doesn’t sit right with you, then don’t let it fade into another story people forget.