New York City voters handed Zohran Mamdani the keys to City Hall in November, betting on his vision for a transformed metropolis. But as the democratic socialist assembles his incoming administration, one choice stands out like a cracked sidewalk in Times Square: appointing Mysonne Linen, a convicted armed robber, to advise on public safety and criminal justice. It’s the kind of decision that leaves working families wondering if their streets will get safer or just more unpredictable.
Linen, a 49-year-old Bronx native who once chased rap stardom with a Def Jam deal, saw his early career cut short by two felony convictions in 1999. Court records show he was found guilty by a Bronx jury of robbing taxi driver Joseph Exiri on June 8, 1997—striking him with a beer bottle during the holdup—and holding up another cabbie, Francisco Monsanto, at gunpoint on March 31, 1998, making off with cash and a ring. Both victims pointed him out in court, sealing a sentence that could have stretched to 25 years. He served seven before parole in 2006.
Linen has long insisted on his innocence, claiming at the time he had no need for quick cash since he was penning tracks for stars like Lil’ Kim and Mase, with a debut album lined up alongside heavyweights such as LL Cool J and Busta Rhymes.
These days, Linen channels his energy into activism, co-founding Until Freedom, a nonprofit pushing for investments in marginalized communities through gun violence prevention and reform efforts. The group touted his spot on Mamdani’s 20-member Committee on the Criminal Legal System in a November 26 Instagram post, posing him with fellow leaders Tamika Mallory and Angelo Pinto.
“We are proud that Until Freedom leaders have been chosen to serve on Mayor-Elect Zohran Mamdani’s transition team on committees for public safety and criminal justice respectively,” the announcement declared. “This is a testament to our decades of work advocating on behalf of Black and Brown communities and our expertise in gun violence prevention, legislative advocacy, and criminal justice reform. We are building something different.”
Linen echoed the line in his own post, framing it as a nod to hard-won community insights.
Mamdani’s team bills the panel as a brain trust for overhauling the “criminal legal system,” feeding into broader pledges like slashing Rikers Island’s population, erecting borough-based jails by 2027, and redirecting over $1 billion toward a new “Department of Community Safety” rooted in public health models rather than traditional policing. It’s part of a clean break from outgoing Mayor Eric Adams, including a halt to homeless encampment sweeps starting January 1. But handing the reins on crime policy to someone with Linen’s record feels less like fresh ideas and more like handing matches to an arsonist.
The backlash hit fast. Jews Fight Back blasted the move on X, posting: “Mayor-elect Zohran Mamdani just appointed a convicted armed robber to help shape NYC’s crime and policing policy,” and labeling it “insane.” They tacked on a photo of Linen with Nation of Islam leader Louis Farrakhan, whose long trail of antisemitic barbs has kept him on the fringes for decades—a connection that only amps up the unease for a mayor-elect already dogged by accusations of anti-Israel rhetoric and a recent dust-up where the NYPD commissioner apologized after her brother dubbed him an “enemy of the Jewish people” at a gala.
Benny Boscio, head of the Correction Officers’ Benevolent Association, called it “both disheartening and deeply disturbing that individuals who are convicted felons and have a history of breaking the law are being given the opportunity to help shape the future of New York’s criminal justice system.”
His point lands hard in a city where cab drivers—many immigrants scraping by on long shifts—still remember the terror of late-90s stickups like the ones Linen was nailed for. Mamdani himself campaigned hard on championing those same cabbies as “unsung heroes,” yet here he is elevating one of their old nightmares to policy influencer.
This isn’t Mamdani’s first eyebrow-raiser. His transition rosters brim with voices like Janos Marton, a failed Manhattan DA candidate who pushed to gut pretrial detention and cap sentences at 20 years, and Dana Rachlin of We Build the Block, who once boasted about mobilizing “impacted blocks” for votes by spotlighting gang database numbers over NYPD headcounts.
Then there’s Max Rameau, an activist who openly mused about “one day we can abolish police.” It’s a lineup that smells like a deliberate pivot away from cops and toward what critics see as unchecked radicalism—folks who view every police scandal as a chance to shrink badges and budgets, even as violent crime ticked up 3% citywide last year, per NYPD stats.
Is this redemption, or a signal that accountability takes a backseat to ideology? Linen’s post-prison path—mentoring at Rikers, interrupting street beefs—shows real grit, no question. But when the guy crafting your safety blueprint once left cabbies bleeding and broke, it begs the question of whose streets this “something different” really protects.
New York has clawed back from the brink before, with broken windows policing and zero-tolerance vibes that kept the wolves at bay. Mamdani’s crew risks unraveling that hard-won progress, all in the name of equity that feels anything but equal for the law-abiding.
As January 1 looms, taxpayers footing the bill for this experiment deserve straight answers, not Instagram platitudes. Will Mamdani’s office address the firestorm, or let it simmer while the transition chugs on? One thing’s clear: In a town built on second chances, third strikes on public trust come at a steep cost. New Yorkers didn’t vote for chaos—they voted for a city that works. Time to see if Mamdani delivers, but at this point it’s not a safe bet.
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