They end up just basically uploading discovery instead of trying cases
In New York City, the machinery of justice is straining under the weight of its own reform. Prosecutors across all five boroughs resigned in unprecedented numbers throughout 2021 and into 2022, driven by pandemic exhaustion, wages that could not compete with private practice, and discovery laws that transformed their work from courtroom advocacy into an endless exercise in data management. The city finds itself at a crossroads familiar to any institution attempting to correct historic wrongs: the remedies, however just in principle, have imposed costs that the system was not built to bear.
- Nearly one in five prosecutors in Manhattan and Brooklyn walked away in a single year, with the Bronx, Queens, and Staten Island suffering comparable losses that left courtrooms dangerously understaffed.
- New discovery laws, designed to end the wrongful withholding of evidence from defendants, exploded data storage demands by 900% and buried prosecutors under 21 mandatory evidence categories — all while salaries stagnated at $72,000 in one of the world's most expensive cities.
- Those who remained were managing up to 100 simultaneous cases, surrendering nights, weekends, and holidays to compliance work that left little room for the courtroom advocacy that drew them to the job in the first place.
- The human stakes are acute: as experienced prosecutors depart and are replaced by novices, defendants — disproportionately people of color — face heightened risk of wrongful conviction from an understaffed and overwhelmed system.
- Governor Hochul proposed softening the discovery laws to prevent case dismissals for 'substantial compliance,' but defenders of the reforms warn that workload relief must never come at the cost of hard-won defendant rights.
In a single year, New York City's prosecutor offices lost talent at a pace few could recall. Manhattan shed 44 assistant district attorneys. Brooklyn lost 36. The Bronx had already hemorrhaged 104 since the previous July. Across the five boroughs, nearly a fifth of the prosecutorial workforce in Manhattan and Brooklyn simply walked away.
The reasons were consistent: the work had become unsustainable. Prosecutors were managing as many as 100 simultaneous cases, each generating mountains of paperwork that consumed their evenings and weekends. Caitlin Nolan, who spent eleven years in the Manhattan DA's office before leaving in January, described the slow erosion — low pay, pandemic fatigue, and an ever-growing volume of material she was expected to produce.
Two forces had reshaped the job almost beyond recognition. The pandemic had shuttered courts across the city just as two new discovery laws took effect. These laws were born from genuine injustice: prosecutors had long withheld exculpatory evidence from defense attorneys, leaving defendants — disproportionately people of color — to accept plea deals without full knowledge of the case against them. The reforms were meant to correct this. But their practical weight was staggering. Prosecutors were now obligated to produce 21 categories of material, including vast troves of electronic data. Manhattan DA Alvin Bragg told the City Council that his office's data storage had grown from 32 terabytes to 320 — a 900 percent increase in two years.
Meanwhile, starting salaries sat at $72,000 in one of the most expensive cities on earth, while law firms offered comparable work for $30,000 more and the freedom to work from home. Bronx DA Darcel Clark stated the obvious: why would a lawyer stay?
The district attorneys were backfilling positions when they could, but often with inexperienced prosecutors stepping into roles that demanded seasoned judgment. Former Manhattan prosecutor John Buza noted that his colleagues weren't disputing the principles behind the discovery laws — they were simply overwhelmed by the totality of what the job had become.
Tina Luongo of the Legal Aid Society acknowledged the strain on both prosecutors and public defenders alike, but held firm: solving a workload crisis by diminishing the rights of the accused was not an acceptable answer. Governor Hochul proposed allowing judges to accept 'substantial compliance' rather than dismissing cases outright — a middle path still under negotiation. The deeper question remained unanswered: whether the system could be given the resources it needed without undoing the protections it had only recently learned to honor.
In the span of a single year, New York City's prosecutor offices hemorrhaged talent at a pace unseen in recent memory. Manhattan lost 44 assistant district attorneys. Brooklyn shed 36. The Bronx, which had already lost 104 since July, was bleeding lawyers at a similar clip. Staten Island's nine departures represented a tenth of its entire prosecutorial staff. Queens was on track to more than double the previous year's exodus. When you add it up across the city's five boroughs, nearly a fifth of the legal workforce in Manhattan and Brooklyn simply walked away.
The reasons they cited were remarkably consistent: the work had become unsustainable. Bronx District Attorney Darcel Clark put it plainly in an interview: the money wasn't adequate, and the balance between work and life had collapsed entirely. Prosecutors who stayed behind were managing as many as 100 cases simultaneously, many of them now generating mountains of paperwork that consumed their nights, weekends, and holidays. A former Manhattan prosecutor named Caitlin Nolan, who had spent eleven years in the office before leaving in January, described the frustration of trying to comply with expectations that felt impossible to meet. She had started looking for work the previous spring, worn down by low pay, pandemic fatigue, and the sheer volume of material she was expected to produce.
Two intersecting forces had transformed the job in ways that made it nearly unrecognizable. When the pandemic arrived in New York two years earlier, it had shut down court proceedings across the city. Simultaneously, two new state laws governing discovery—the sharing of evidence and case materials—took effect. These laws were born from a legitimate concern: prosecutors had been withholding exculpatory evidence from defense attorneys, leaving defendants, a disproportionate number of them people of color, in the dark about the strength of the case against them. Without full knowledge of the evidence, many accepted plea deals rather than risk trial. The new laws were meant to correct this injustice.
But the practical effect on prosecutors was staggering. They were now obligated to produce 21 different categories of material, including all electronically stored information relevant to a case. If a defendant had blown into a breathalyzer, prosecutors had to obtain and hand over six months of calibration reports for that device—and continue providing similar reports filed after the defendant used it. The second law, known as Kalief's Law after a teenager who died by suicide after three years on Rikers Island without trial, tied the handover of evidence to the speedy trial clock, creating crushing deadline pressure. Manhattan District Attorney Alvin Bragg illustrated the scale of the burden in testimony to the City Council: before 2020, his office used about 32 terabytes of data storage. By the time he spoke, it was using 320 terabytes—a 900 percent increase in two years.
Meanwhile, the salaries had not moved. A starting prosecutor in Manhattan or Brooklyn earned $72,000 a year. In the Bronx, it was $75,121. In a city where the cost of living was among the highest in the nation, these figures were difficult to justify, especially when law firms were offering similar work for $30,000 more and the flexibility to work from home. Clark noted the obvious math: why would a lawyer stay? "When they have all this pressure on them, they'd rather go somewhere else where their quality of life is better," she said.
The district attorneys were replacing their departing employees when they could, but often with inexperienced prosecutors stepping into roles that demanded seasoned judgment. John P. Buza, a former Manhattan prosecutor who now practiced defense law, observed that his former colleagues weren't arguing the principles of the discovery laws were unjust. They were simply overwhelmed by the totality of what the job had become. "People go into the job because they have an idea as to what it means to be a prosecutor and go into court and try cases, and they end up just basically uploading discovery," he said.
Tina Luongo, who oversaw the criminal defense practice at the Legal Aid Society, acknowledged the genuine strain on prosecutors—and on public defenders too. High workloads diminished morale across the system. She expected the state to provide local prosecutors with tens of millions of dollars for staffing in its coming budget. But she was firm on a principle: "It cannot be the case and it must not be the case that the way you solve a workload problem is to diminish the rights of somebody accused of a crime."
Governor Kathy Hochul had proposed modifications to the discovery law that would prevent judges from dismissing cases if prosecutors were in "substantial compliance" with their obligations. Various counterproposals were under negotiation. The question hanging over the system was whether any adjustment could restore equilibrium—whether prosecutors could be given the resources and reasonable workloads they needed without rolling back the protections that had been hard-won for defendants.
Notable Quotes
The money is not where it should be, and the work-life balance is just unmanageable.— Bronx District Attorney Darcel Clark
It cannot be the case and it must not be the case that the way you solve a workload problem is to diminish the rights of somebody accused of a crime.— Tina Luongo, Legal Aid Society
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why are prosecutors leaving so suddenly? This seems like something that would have happened gradually.
The pandemic was the match, but the discovery laws were the gasoline. When courts shut down and two new laws hit at the same time, the job fundamentally changed overnight. Prosecutors went from managing a workload to drowning in it.
But weren't these laws supposed to be fair? To protect defendants?
Absolutely. The old system was broken—prosecutors were hiding evidence, and defendants, mostly people of color, were taking plea deals they shouldn't have. The laws fixed that. But nobody funded the fix. Prosecutors still make $72,000 a year in Manhattan, and now they're managing 100 cases with nine times the data storage they used to need.
So the solution is to pay them more?
That's part of it. But it's also about whether the system can absorb what fairness actually costs. A former prosecutor I read about spent eleven years in the job before she left. She wasn't burned out on justice—she was burned out on the gap between what the job demands and what it provides.
What happens when all these experienced prosecutors leave?
You get younger, less experienced people trying to handle cases that need judgment. And if they make mistakes under pressure, cases get dismissed. The people hurt most are the ones the discovery laws were meant to protect in the first place.
Is there a fix?
Governor Hochul proposed letting prosecutors off the hook for minor compliance failures. But the defense bar is pushing back—they don't want to trade fairness for convenience. It's a genuine tension. You can't solve a workload problem by taking away rights.