Inheritance by Fire
When Pete Skandalakis stepped into the Rayshard Brooks case in 2020, he did not inherit a neutral file. He inherited a fire.
The summer had already scorched Atlanta: Brooks, a 27-year-old Black man, was shot in the parking lot of a Wendy’s after a DUI stop escalated into a struggle. Fulton County District Attorney Paul Howard, facing reelection, charged officer Garrett Rolfe with felony murder and officer Devin Brosnan with aggravated assault. The charges were sweeping, the city was raw, and the case became a symbol of the national reckoning over policing.
By the time Skandalakis received the file, Howard was gone, defeated in the election by Fani Willis, an Assistant District Attorney working under Howard, and the case was already ablaze with public expectation. What he received was not a blank canvas, but a palimpsest of grief, protest, and political urgency layered over bodycam footage, taser discharge data, and police training manuals.
Skandalis’s reception of the case was narrow, technical, and swift. He declared:
“The use of deadly force was objectively reasonable under Georgia law and Atlanta Police Department policy.”
With that pronouncement, he closed the aperture. The case was reframed from a moral narrative into a doctrinal puzzle: did the officers act within the bounds of training and statute? His answer was yes.
The tempo was decisive. He moved quickly, aligning facts to doctrine, and dismissed the charges. For Skandalakis, certainty was the stabilizer. In a city inflamed, he wagered that doctrinal closure would cool the fire.
But certainty became closure, and closure became controversy. Civil rights advocates argued the public deserved a jury trial. Community voices insisted that the law should have named what it saw: a man shot in the back while fleeing. Skandalis’s reception of the case revealed his philosophy — treat incident heat with doctrinal cool, stabilize by narrowing the aperture to policy and precedent.
Three years later, Skandalakis again inherited a file from Fan Willis, but a different kind of file: not fire, but weight. In 2023, Fulton County DA Fani Willis indicted Donald Trump and 18 allies under Georgia’s racketeering statute, alleging a conspiracy to overturn the 2020 election. It was a sprawling case, heavy with national consequence. But Willis was later disqualified due to a conflict of interest, and the case needed a new steward.
Skandalakis explained the extraordinary difficulty of finding one:
“Several prosecutors were contacted and, while all were respectful and professional, each declined the appointment.”
The refusals spoke volumes. Prosecutors across Georgia feared the political and even physical retribution that might follow from taking on Trump. Skandalakis admitted he could have let the case lapse:
“While it would have been simple to allow Judge McAfee’s deadline to lapse… I did not believe that to be the right course of action.”
So he appointed himself.
What he received was not a single incident but a mass: 101 boxes of documents and an 8-terabyte hard drive of evidence. His posture was procedural, cautious, and deliberate. He emphasized transparency, careful review, and stewardship of the institution.
The tempo here was slow. He signaled skepticism about prosecuting Trump while in office, but left open the possibility of pursuing charges against co-defendants. His caution reflected the gravity of the case and the risks of politicization.
Slowness became prudence; prudence became skepticism for some, reassurance for others. His reception of the case revealed a different philosophy — treat systemic mass with procedural ballast, stabilize by widening the aperture to institutional legitimacy.
The contrast between the two inheritances is stark.
- Police Case Grammar: Incident law compressed to a hinge point — was the shooting lawful?
- Election Case Grammar: System law widened to a topology — who acted, when, and how to prosecute without collapsing the institution.
One grammar required a ruler; the other required a map.
And the legitimacy strategies diverged:
- Police Case: Certainty strategy — doctrinal closure, controversy contained by pronouncement.
- Election Case: Stewardship strategy — procedural endurance, legitimacy sustained by visible prudence.
Skandalakis himself underscored his philosophy:
“My only objective is to ensure that this case is handled properly, fairly, and with full transparency, discharging my duties without fear, favor, or affection.”
Pete Skandalakis’ reception of these two inheritances — one fire, one weight — shows the dual stabilizers of Georgia prosecutorial politics. In law enforcement cases, certainty cools the heat. In political cases, stewardship steadies the masses.
Fani Willis’ removal forced him into the latter role, and the refusal of other prosecutors left him to carry the burden alone. His contrasting rhythms — swift doctrinal closure in the Brooks case, deliberate procedural stewardship in the Trump case — reveal not neutrality, but a chosen orientation toward different kinds of crisis.
Reception, in his hands, is a craft: how a prosecutor inherits a file, translates it into the language his office can handle, and sets a time signature that keeps the institution from breaking under either heat or weight.
When Pete Skandalakis accepted the Georgia election interference case, he did so not because the path was clear, but because it was blocked.
The case began under Fulton County District Attorney Fani Willis, who indicted Donald Trump and 18 allies in 2023 under Georgia’s racketeering statute. Her sweeping indictment alleged a coordinated conspiracy to overturn the 2020 election. For a moment, the case seemed destined to become the defining trial of American democracy at the state level. The lay public viewed Trump’s recorded telephone call to the Georgia Secretary of State Brad Raffenberger as a slam dunk, which would send Trump to a Georgia prison for a long time.
However, Willis herself was later disqualified, as her relationship with special prosecutor Nathan Wade was deemed a conflict of interest. The case, suddenly leaderless, required a new steward. And here the story turned: Skandalakis, as head of the Prosecuting Attorneys’ Council of Georgia, was tasked with finding someone to take it on.
He could not.
“Several prosecutors were contacted and, while all were respectful and professional, each declined the appointment.” — Pete Skandalakis.
The refusals were not procedural; they were existential. To take the case was to invite political retribution, perhaps even physical danger. In Georgia’s prosecutorial circles, the risk was too significant. No one wanted to inherit the weight.
Possibly the best-skilled Georgia prosecutor to take on this case file is Paul Howard, whom Willis defeated in the 2020 election. If Skandalakis asked Howard, he probably figured the calculus as did other prosecuting attorneys, and politely declined to risk entangling his life after being Fulton County District Attorney with the bitter adversarial attacks Trump is noted for delivering on those who oppose his interests.
Skandalakis admitted he could have let the case lapse:
“While it would have been simple to allow Judge McAfee’s deadline to lapse… I did not believe that to be the right course of action.” — Pete Skandalakis
So he appointed himself.
What he inherited was not a single incident but a sprawling archive: 101 boxes of documents and an 8-terabyte hard drive of evidence. It was a case that bent the institution around it, threatening to overwhelm the very office tasked with carrying it forward.
Unlike the Brooks shooting, which condensed into a pivotal point of doctrine, the election case expanded into a complex web of actors, timelines, and overlapping jurisdictions. It was not a puzzle to be solved quickly, but a mass to be managed carefully.
Skandalis’s reception of the case was deliberate, procedural, and cautious. He emphasized transparency, careful review, and stewardship of the institution. His tempo was slow, not because he lacked urgency, but because he understood the gravity of prosecuting a former president and his allies in a polarized nation.
Slowness became prudence. Prudence became skepticism for some, reassurance for others.
He signaled skepticism about prosecuting Trump while in office, but left open the possibility of pursuing charges against co-defendants. His caution reflected not only the complexity of the evidence but also the risks of politicization and retaliation.
The fact that no other prosecutor in Georgia would take the case is itself part of the narrative. It reveals the climate of fear surrounding political prosecutions in the state — fear of backlash, fear of violence, fear of being consumed by a case too large for any one office.
Skandalakis’ self-appointment was less an act of ambition than of necessity. He became the lone steward, not because he sought the role, but because the role had become untouchable.
In the election interference case, Pete Skandalakis inherited weight rather than fire. His reception was not about doctrinal closure but about institutional survival. He chose the grammar of stewardship, the rhythm of delay, the strategy of transparency.
Where the Brooks case showed his decisiveness, the Trump case shows his caution. Where one inheritance demanded closure, the other demanded endurance.
And in the silence of Georgia’s prosecutorial community — the refusals, the fears, the retreat — his acceptance became symbolic. He did not inherit the case because he wanted it. He inherited it because no one else would.
Pete Skandalakis has now carried two inheritances that could not be more different: the fire of a police shooting case and the weight of a political conspiracy case. Each demanded a different grammar, a different rhythm, and a different strategy of legitimacy. Together, they reveal the dual stabilizers of Georgia’s prosecutorial politics — certainty and stewardship.
In 2020, Skandalakis inherited the Rayshard Brooks case after Fulton DA Paul Howard charged officers with murder. The city was raw, the file ablaze with grief and protest. Skandalakis narrowed the aperture to doctrine, declaring:
“The use of deadly force was objectively reasonable under Georgia law and Atlanta Police Department policy.”
His reception was swift, technical, and decisive. He treated the incident heat with doctrinal cool, stabilizing by closure. Certainty became his strategy, and it also became a source of controversy.
Three years later, he inherited the Trump election interference case after Fulton DA Fani Willis was disqualified. Unlike the Brooks case, this was not a single fire but a mass of evidence: 101 boxes and an 8-terabyte hard drive, spanning across multiple defendants and timelines.
In both cases, Pete Skandalakis employed two different languages. In the Brooks, the incident law language was spoken. He compressed the Brooks case to a hinge point. Was the shooting lawful?
In the election case, the system law language is speaking. He widened to a topology. Who acted, when, and how to prosecute without collapsing the institution?
One grammatical retort required a ruler; the other requires a map. In the Brooks case, Skandalakis employed the certainty strategy, known as doctrinal closure, where controversy followed the pronouncement that the officers would be released from prosecution. Now, the Election case calls for a stewardship strategy, which requires procedural endurance and legitimacy sustained by visible prudence.
The juxtaposition of fire and weight reveals a prosecutor who adapts to the crisis’s rhythm. In law enforcement cases, he stabilizes by certainty. In political cases, he stabilizes by stewardship.
Fani Willis’ removal forced him into the latter role, and the refusal of other prosecutors left him to carry the burden alone. His dual inheritances show not neutrality, but orientation: doctrinal cool for incident heat, procedural ballast for systemic mass.
Reception, in his hands, is crafting how a prosecutor translates a file into the grammar his office can bear, and plays a time signature that keeps the institution from breaking under either fire or weight.
Pete Skandalakis’ dual inheritances, the fire of the Rayshard Brooks case, and the weight of the Trump election interference case are not simply two episodes in one man’s career. They are mirrors held up to Georgia’s prosecutorial politics, reflecting the tension between law-and-order conservatism and the fragile pursuit of public accountability in a polarized democracy.
Here, legitimacy was sought through certainty. The law spoke in the grammar of manuals and precedent, cooling the fire by narrowing the aperture to doctrine. But certainty came at a cost: controversy, protest, and the sense that public accountability had been excluded from the courtroom.
Together, these cases reveal the dual stabilizers of Georgia’s prosecutorial politics: certainty in law enforcement cases, stewardship in political ones. Certainty conserves doctrine. It reassures institutions that their rules remain in place, even in the face of public outrage. While Stewardship conserves capacity, it reassures institutions that they can survive the weight of political polarization without collapsing.
But both strategies are conservative in their own way. They protect institutions more than they expand accountability. They stabilize by narrowing whether to focus on manuals or processes, leaving broader civic demands at the gate.
Pete Skandalakis’ dual inheritances show not neutrality, but orientation. He treats incident heat with doctrinal cool, systemic mass with procedural ballast. His swift closure in the Brooks case and deliberate endurance in the Trump case are the rhythms of Georgia’s prosecutorial politics itself: law-and-order conservatism on one hand, institutional stewardship on the other.
And in the silence of Georgia’s prosecutorial community — the refusals, the fears, the retreat — his acceptance of the election case became symbolic. He did not inherit it because he wanted it. He inherited it because no one else would.
Reception, in his hands, is craft: how a prosecutor translates a file into the grammar his office can bear, and plays a time signature that keeps the institution from breaking under either fire or weight.
We shall see whether Skandalakis takes his time and reviews this voluminous case file, then concludes that the RICO charges must be dropped, or if the entire case in Skandalakis’s hands fails in the face of the rule of law, or, God forbid, succumbs to political pressure.
This time next year, Georgia’s next governor may be Bert Jones, once one of the defendants in the election case, whom Skandalakis dropped from the case last year, citing Jones as a State Senator at the time, “did not act with criminal intent.”
What portends for Pete Skandalis, for justice and electoral politics in Georgia and the nation?