​

I. Introduction: A Case Frozen in Secrecy

 

On December 26, 1996, JonBenét Ramsey was found murdered in the basement of her family’s Boulder home.

Three years later, a Boulder County Grand Jury secretly voted to indict Patsy and John Ramsey on two felony counts each:

​

COUNT IV – CHILD ABUSE RESULTING IN DEATH
“…did unlawfully, knowingly, recklessly, and feloniously permit a child to be unreasonably placed in a situation which posed a threat of injury to the child’s life or health, which resulted in the death of JonBenét Ramsey, a child under the age of sixteen.”

​

COUNT VII – ACCESSORY TO A CRIME
“…did unlawfully, knowingly, and feloniously render assistance to a person, with intent to hinder, delay, and prevent the discovery, detention, apprehension, prosecution, conviction, and punishment of such person for the commission of a crime, knowing the person being assisted has committed and was suspected of the crime of murder in the first degree and child abuse resulting in death.

​

But, the District Attorney at the time—Alex Hunter—refused to sign the indictment. The records were sealed. And for nearly 30 years, the public has been denied access to the full truth.

​​

​

Yet justice delayed—through secrecy and silence—risks becoming justice denied.

It is time to reexamine the legal, ethical, and constitutional justification for keeping these Grand Jury records sealed. A growing body of case law supports unsealing when:

• no prosecution occurs,

• public officials are implicated,

• witness risk is minimal,

• and transparency serves a compelling public interest.

 

The legal and public interest predicates for unsealing have been fully established and, in this case, materially exceeded—rendering continued nondisclosure unjustifiable.

​

 

II. Time Has Diminished the Justification for Secrecy

 

Nearly three decades have passed with no arrests, no prosecutions, and no substantive progress in the case. In legal terms, the “temporal weight” of this delay cannot be ignored.

 

In United States v. Sealed Search Warrants, 868 F.3d 385 (5th Cir. 2017), the court held that the mere status of being “open” on paper is not enough to perpetuate secrecy. The government must demonstrate active investigation with defined next steps. Vague references to “ongoing review” do not satisfy this standard.

 

Similarly, the Second Circuit in In re Craig, 131 F.3d 99 (2d Cir. 1997), noted that Grand Jury secrecy must eventually give way to the public’s right to understand how government institutions operate—especially after years of inaction.

 

This principle was reinforced in Colorado in People v. Bailey, 2022 CO 58, where the court recognized that in cases of extraordinary public concern, the passage of time only intensifies the public’s right to examine how justice was or wasn’t pursued.

 

In the Ramsey case, officials have failed to bring charges or close the case in any meaningful way. Statements about “new leads” or “recent hires” appear performative—devoid of any investigative result. The public is not asking for trade secrets.

It is asking for truth.

​

 

III. Public Safety, Not Secrecy, Is the Higher Duty

 

Grand Jury secrecy is not absolute. Courts recognize that institutional accountability can—and must—override tradition when secrecy shields misconduct or undermines public trust.

 

This principle was upheld in People v. Bailey, 2022 CO 58 (Elijah McClain case), where Judge Mark D. Warner—later upheld by Judge Baumann—allowed the release of Grand Jury-related materials despite the state’s objections. The court ruled that once a case enters the public sphere—particularly when an indictment is issued—the rationale for secrecy “significantly weakens.”

 

In Bailey, the court held that secrecy must yield where transparency is essential to public confidence in the justice system. This applies with even greater force in the Ramsey case, where the Grand Jury returned an indictment and the DA’s override occurred entirely behind closed doors.

 

In the Ramsey case, the Grand Jury reached a decision. It indicted. But the DA refused to act. This is not a theoretical harm. It is a real fracture in the public’s right to know whether justice was pursued—or politically suppressed.

 

Just as in Bailey, the question is not whether secrecy once served a valid purpose, but whether it still does. After nearly 30 years, it does not.

 

If secrecy is allowed to override this level of public interest, then transparency becomes optional—and accountability dies in darkness.

​

 

IV. Witness Risk Is Minimal and Can Be Mitigated

 

Opponents may argue that disclosure could put witnesses or jurors at risk. But this argument fails on both legal and factual grounds.

 

First, many witnesses and officials in the Ramsey case have already spoken publicly or been named in media coverage, books, and interviews. In some cases, former Grand Jurors themselves have gone on record.

 

Second, the standard judicial remedy is redaction, not permanent suppression. In both In re Craig and People v. Bailey, courts emphasized that theoretical harm is not sufficient to withhold records. Specific, credible threats must be shown.

 

In this case:

• Nearly 30 years have passed.

• Most individuals are no longer in public danger.

• The indictment was already partially unsealed in 2013, with no known negative consequences.

 

If there were any residual risk to jurors or witnesses today—a claim the state has yet to substantiate—the appropriate judicial remedy would be targeted redaction, not wholesale nondisclosure. As both In re Craig and People v. Bailey reaffirm, redaction is the established and constitutionally sound tool to balance privacy and transparency. The state must not be permitted to invoke speculative harm as a pretext to suppress the entirety of a historically significant indictment.

​

 

V. Prior Disclosure Has Already Set the Precedent

 

In 2013, four pages of the Grand Jury indictment were unsealed by court order. These pages revealed that the Grand Jury found probable cause to charge John and Patsy Ramsey with child abuse resulting in death.

 

This limited release demonstrated that:

• Disclosure is possible,

• Redaction can protect individuals,

• And transparency does not disrupt public safety.

 

Since then, the remainder of the record has remained sealed—despite the absence of any continuing legal justification for secrecy.

 

Once part of a Grand Jury record is released, the burden of justification shifts to the government to explain why the rest must remain hidden.

​

 

VI. Government by the People Requires Informed Consent

 

Grand Juries are empaneled at taxpayer expense. Their findings represent the will of the community—not of prosecutors. When a Grand Jury indicts and the DA overrides that indictment in secret, it undermines the constitutional balance between the community’s voice and prosecutorial discretion.

 

This is not merely about a murdered child. It is about a public institution circumventing the judgment of another public body—and doing so in the dark.

 

As one federal court noted, “The integrity of public institutions depends on informed public oversight.”

(In re Dow Jones & Co., 142 F.3d 496, 500 (D.C. Cir. 1998))

 

The Colorado Supreme Court echoed this sentiment in Bailey, emphasizing that in matters involving institutional decision-making and public harm, transparency is not merely a policy choice—it is a democratic imperative.

​

 

VII. The Zansberg Doctrine*: Silence Is Not Neutral

 

Steve Zansberg, First Amendment attorney and longtime champion of public access, addressed a parallel situation in Colorado when public records were being withheld.

 

“It is unfortunate that public officials… did nothing to clarify… when \[the coroner] was first asked to release the public record.”

— Steve Zansberg, Colorado Freedom of Information Coalition

 

While this quote refers to another case, its principle speaks directly to the Ramsey matter: when public officials choose silence in the face of clear public interest, they are not maintaining neutrality—they are sustaining opacity. And opacity fosters conspiracy, distrust, and cynicism.

 

Zansberg’s position, mirrored in multiple Colorado rulings, is that transparency is not optional when public confidence is on the line. The same logic that justified disclosure in the McClain case applies here, if not more urgently.

 

The First Amendment further supports this position. As the Supreme Court held in Stanley v. Georgia, 394 U.S. 557 (1969), the public has a right to receive information about how government institutions function. And in Richmond Newspapers v. Virginia, 448 U.S. 555 (1980), the Court emphasized that secrecy in criminal proceedings is fundamentally at odds with the First Amendment’s purpose: to enable an informed electorate.

​

 

VIII. Comparative Case Law Confirms the Path Forward

 

Colorado is not alone. Courts across the country have unsealed Grand Jury materials in high-profile, unresolved, or controversial cases when:

• the case is dormant,

• no living individual faces jeopardy,

• the actions of officials are at issue,

• and disclosure would promote public confidence.

 

Cases such as In re Petition of Craig, People v. Bailey, and In re Special Proceedings, 373 F.3d 37 (D.C. Cir. 2004), reaffirm that secrecy must serve a legal purpose—not a political one. In *Special Proceedings*, the court held that Grand Jury secrecy must give way when public confidence in the criminal justice system is at stake—particularly where the conduct of prosecutors or law enforcement is under scrutiny.

 

While Federal Rule of Criminal Procedure 6(e) governs grand jury secrecy at the federal level, it does not apply to state proceedings like this one. Colorado grand juries are governed by state law—not federal procedural rules. Nonetheless, courts have frequently looked to Rule 6(e) as persuasive authority when considering the balance between secrecy and transparency. And even without its direct application here, courts have consistently recognized that grand jury secrecy is not absolute—particularly when weighed against democratic accountability and public interest.

 

The Ramsey case, where a Grand Jury returned an indictment but the District Attorney overrode it in secret, embodies that very tension between secrecy and democratic accountability.

​

 

IX. Secrecy That Endangers Is Not Protective—It’s Negligent

 

Grand Jury secrecy is often defended as a protective measure—shielding reputations, encouraging testimony, or preserving prosecutorial discretion. But when secrecy is used to suppress a lawfully returned indictment for the death of a child, it no longer functions as protection. It becomes negligence.

 

When a Grand Jury found probable cause to indict the Ramseys for child abuse resulting in death, that decision carried implications far beyond the courtroom. It bore directly on community safety. And yet, the indictment was sealed—hidden from the very public that might have relied on that knowledge to make informed decisions about their children’s well-being.

 

Following the initial investigation, the Ramseys moved from Boulder to the Atlanta area, where they continued to participate in schools, churches, social groups, and public life—surrounded again by children. The public in Colorado never knew they had been indicted. The public in Georgia never knew they had been indicted. This silence was not protective. It was dangerous.

 

To be clear: this is not an allegation that Burke Ramsey posed a threat to anyone. It is a legal and ethical indictment of the decision to suppress serious charges against his parents—charges that, had they been disclosed, would have given other families the right to make informed decisions about contact, supervision, and trust.

 

Secrecy is not a constitutional mandate. It is a judicial tradition—one that must yield when it no longer serves a legitimate purpose. And the courts have repeatedly held that public safety is among the highest interests the state can protect. Transparency in such cases is not voyeurism. It is vigilance.

 

Prosecutors and state actors must not be permitted to hide behind the shield of grand jury secrecy to suppress indictments that, had they been disclosed, could have prevented future harm—or at minimum, informed future precaution. Legal doctrine does not permit retroactive regret to excuse institutional failure.

 

As seen in People v. Bailey, when public safety and institutional accountability are in conflict with secrecy, the law favors disclosure. Because nothing undermines justice more than a silence that places others in harm’s way—and sets no precedent to prevent it from happening again.

​

 

X. The Law Supports It. The People Deserve It

 

This is not a media stunt. It is a legal, democratic, and ethical appeal.

 

Unsealing the remaining Grand Jury records in the JonBenét Ramsey case would not endanger witnesses. It would not harm an active prosecution. It would not set a dangerous precedent.

 

What it would do—what the law supports—is uphold the public’s right to know why a Grand Jury decision was overridden in secret.

To understand what happened—and why.

To evaluate the institutions sworn to protect the most vulnerable among us.

 

As the Colorado Supreme Court held in Bailey, secrecy must not be allowed to stand as a substitute for justice—especially when the very institutions entrusted with accountability are the ones shielding themselves.

 

Because until the truth is seen, justice will remain out of reach.

​​

​

XI. Who Gets to Overrule a Grand Jury?

​

In the American justice system, a Grand Jury is not symbolic. It is a constitutionally rooted legal body empowered to evaluate evidence, compel testimony, and determine whether probable cause exists to initiate criminal proceedings. Its purpose is structural: to serve as an independent safeguard—not as a rubber stamp or an extension of the prosecutor’s office.

​

In United States v. Williams, 504 U.S. 36 (1992), the Supreme Court emphasized that Grand Juries are “not a part of the judicial branch” and do not function under the direction of a court. Rather, they are “a constitutional fixture in its own right,” intended to operate independently of both judge and prosecutor. This independence underscores their authority—and the seriousness of their findings.

​

In 1999, a Colorado Grand Jury voted to indict John and Patsy Ramsey on two felony counts each:

​

COUNT IV – CHILD ABUSE RESULTING IN DEATH

Each parent was accused of “unlawfully, knowingly, recklessly and feloniously” permitting JonBenét to be placed in a situation that posed a threat of injury to her life or health—which resulted in her death.

​

COUNT VII – ACCESSORY TO A CRIME (After the Fact)
Each parent was further accused of “rendering assistance to a person,” with the intent to “hinder, delay, or prevent the discovery, detention, apprehension, prosecution, conviction, or punishment” of that person for the crime committed.

​

The process was lawful, deliberative, and executed under the supervision of a state court. A true bill was signed—reflecting the Grand Jury’s finding of probable cause under Colorado law.

​

But the indictment was never filed.

​

District Attorney Alex Hunter did not bring the indictment forward for prosecution. He did not release it to the public. He did not submit it for judicial review, nor did he seek a court order to quash or defer it. Instead, he unilaterally suppressed the Grand Jury’s finding—without court involvement, without legal briefing, and without any written justification or record.

​

At a televised press conference in 1999, Hunter stated:

“We do not have sufficient evidence to warrant a filing of charges against anyone who has been under investigation in this case.”

​

That statement was materially false. A true bill had been returned. Charges had been authorized. Yet Hunter invoked the language of insufficiency to obscure what had actually occurred: a deliberate act of suppression. That is not legal discretion. It is the functional equivalent of prosecutorial nullification—executed without process, transparency, or accountability.

​

Hunter later defended his decision by stating that he did not believe there was sufficient evidence to secure a conviction at trial. But that is not the same as saying there was “insufficient evidence” to indict. In fact, a Grand Jury had already reached that decision—finding probable cause to charge John and Patsy Ramsey. Even if Hunter ultimately chose not to prosecute, he had a duty to acknowledge the Grand Jury’s finding. Instead, he withheld it from public view and misled the public into believing no such determination had been made. That is not an exercise of discretion. That is a distortion of the legal process.

It was also a breach of his fiduciary duty to the public he served—a duty to act in good faith, with honesty, transparency, and loyalty to the public interest above all else.

​

It is important to remember that prosecutors are not kings. Their discretion is not absolute. While judges may, in rare cases, issue a judgment notwithstanding the verdict (JNOV)—overriding a jury verdict when the evidence cannot legally support it—such a process occurs within the judicial system. It requires written legal justification, is subject to appellate review, and becomes part of the public record.

Hunter’s suppression of a true bill had none of these safeguards. It was not a dismissal. It was not judicial. It was not reviewable. It was a private decision that nullified the will of a Grand Jury—a constitutional body—without any legal mechanism for challenge or correction. This distinction is critical. One man cannot, and must not, possess the power to override the legal findings of twelve citizens convened under the authority of the court.

​

In a system designed to prevent the concentration of unchecked authority, this outcome should have been impossible. But in Colorado, no law—then or now—prevents a district attorney from concealing a Grand Jury indictment without oversight, justification, or record.

 

That structural failure permitted one man to silence twelve.

One man to negate legal process.

One man to withhold the truth from the public—and exclude the courts from their rightful role.

 

Such power has no place in a constitutional democracy. The Grand Jury is not a prosecutorial accessory. It is the legal voice of the people.

 

Protecting the reputations of the accused is not a justification for concealing a lawful indictment. It is not the role of a district attorney to withhold legal findings in the name of public image.

​

This must never happen again—not just in the Ramsey case, but anywhere.

The public deserves more than retrospective outrage.
It deserves structural reform.

Just as “Megan’s Law” and “Marsy’s Law” emerged from failures of justice,
so too should the JonBenét Law:
a statutory safeguard that prohibits any district attorney from suppressing a returned indictment without:

​

– formal judicial review
– written justification placed on record or made subject to seal and appellate oversight
– a defined mechanism for public release or independent override after a set period.

Absent such reform, the Grand Jury becomes an illusion—its authority contingent not on law, but on the private will of a single individual. When that happens, justice is not delayed. It is denied.

​

The indictment was only part of the story. The Grand Jury proceedings spanned more than a year, involving testimony, documents, and forensic evidence that have never been made public. That record—what the jurors saw, what they heard, and what led them to return a true bill—remains sealed to this day.

​

It should not be.

​

A Grand Jury is not an internal advisory board—its purpose is not secrecy, but accountability. When it returns an indictment, that finding carries legal weight and public consequence. In a case of this magnitude, the people have a right to know not just that a true bill was returned—but why.

​

Whether or not Alex Hunter believed he could win a conviction is irrelevant to the public’s right to transparency. The Grand Jury determined there was enough evidence to indict. At minimum, the public had a right to know that—and today, it has the right to know what that indictment was based on.

​

The continued sealing of the full Grand Jury record serves no legal purpose. The case is no longer active. The individuals involved are either deceased or have long lived under public scrutiny.

Innocent individuals have also lived under clouded suspicion for decades—without the benefit of knowing what evidence was actually presented behind closed doors. They, too, deserve resolution. They, too, deserve disclosure.

​

The legal and public interest predicates for unsealing have not only been met—they have been exceeded.

​

The time for secrecy is over.

The full Grand Jury record must be unsealed.

​

 

XII. The JonBenét Law

 

A safeguard for the future. A statute born from silence.

 

The Ramsey case exposed a structural defect in Colorado law: there is nothing preventing a District Attorney from suppressing a Grand Jury indictment—no oversight, no required review, and no statutory obligation to inform the public.

 

In any other context, such power would be subject to checks and balances. But here, in the context of a returned indictment, there is a gap. And that gap allowed one person—behind closed doors—to override the decision of a legally convened Grand Jury without judicial challenge or legislative consequence.

 

The JonBenét Law would close that gap.

 

Modeled in spirit after Megan’s Law and Marsy’s Law, this proposal is not symbolic. It is corrective. It acknowledges that what happened in the Ramsey case cannot be undone—but it also affirms that the public has a right to be informed when charges are returned in their name.

 

Under the JonBenét Law, any returned indictment by a state Grand Jury could not be suppressed or ignored without:

– Formal judicial review conducted within a fixed timeline

– A written legal explanation placed on record, or sealed with independent oversight

– Automatic notification to a designated review panel or appellate authority

– A default presumption of public disclosure after a defined interval, unless compelling state interest is shown

 

This law would codify the principle that the Grand Jury does not serve at the pleasure of a prosecutor—it serves the people. And when the people, through that body, return a true bill, they are exercising one of the oldest forms of legal judgment in a democratic society.

 

It should not take lawsuits, media coalitions, or investigative reporting to learn the outcome.

 

It should not be optional.

 

Colorado stands at a crossroads. It has long positioned itself as a leader in justice reform—advancing transparency in policing, expanding access to public records, and holding public officials to higher standards of accountability. But one critical gap remains: unchecked prosecutorial discretion in the face of a returned indictment.

 

The JonBenét Ramsey case laid that flaw bare.

 

For decades, this state has carried the weight of a secret that was never meant to remain secret. A Grand Jury spoke. Its decision was clear. Yet no charges were ever brought, and no legal safeguard required the District Attorney to explain why. The voice of the people was silenced—and Colorado law allowed it.

 

That cannot happen again.

 

This moment presents a rare convergence: legal precedent, public interest, political will, and national appetite for reform. The same state that pioneered marijuana legalization, progressive sentencing reform, and enhanced victims’ rights is more than capable of leading this charge.

 

This law is not partisan. It is foundational.

– To conservatives, it limits unilateral state power.

– To liberals, it reinforces structural transparency.

– To legal scholars, it restores the constitutional balance between branches.

– To families, it ensures that what happened to JonBenét Ramsey never becomes a template for silence again.

 

There is no statute of limitations on the public’s right to know.

 

We may not be able to change the past. But we can legislate against its repetition.

 

In October 2013, John Ramsey publicly called for the full release of the Grand Jury records after only four pages were unsealed by order of Judge Lowenbach. His statement was widely reported by national media, reinforcing the bipartisan demand for full transparency and public access.

​

Ramsey family attorney Lin Wood also voiced support for the full release, stating that only total transparency could resolve the lingering cloud of suspicion and speculation surrounding the case.

​

Grand Jury secrecy is often defended as a shield—protecting jurors, witnesses, and the reputations of those not ultimately charged. But in this case, secrecy has done the opposite. By suppressing the full indictment, the system failed to protect the very people it claimed to safeguard. Individuals who may never have been charged—or whose role was misunderstood—have lived under a persistent cloud of suspicion for decades. Their names have been spoken on podcasts. Written in books. Portrayed in documentaries. Speculated about on the internet. The incomplete release of the record has fueled doubt, not clarity. Transparency is not only a matter of justice—it’s a matter of fairness to everyone affected.

 

We cannot rewrite the past. But we can prevent it from becoming precedent.

 

History is filled with moments we cannot defend—moments when the law allowed injustice to go unchecked. We don’t excuse those moments. We learn from them. And we act.

 

What happened in 1999 was not just a legal loophole. It was a breach of public trust. A Grand Jury was convened, heard evidence, and returned an indictment. But one man—without oversight, without review, without public explanation—chose to suppress it. That decision was made in secret. Funded by taxpayers. And hidden from the very people it was meant to serve.

 

That cannot become an accepted function of our legal system.

 

This isn’t about relitigating the past. It’s about ensuring it cannot be repeated. The JonBenét Law would not assign guilt or innocence—but it would guarantee that when a grand jury speaks, it cannot be silenced behind closed doors.

 

Because secrecy doesn’t protect justice. It erodes it.

 

Even the Ramseys have called for a full release of the Grand Jury record. And so have the public, the press, and legal scholars across the country.

 

This law doesn’t look backward in blame. It looks forward in resolve. It affirms that no prosecutor—not in Colorado, not anywhere—should have the unchecked power to bury an indictment returned in the name of the people.

 

It’s time to close the loophole.

It’s time to restore public faith.

It’s time to bring the truth into the light—permanently.

 

That begins by unsealing the past.

And it continues with the passage of the JonBenét Law.

​

​​​

​

CLOSING ARGUMENT

​

Your Honor—

​

The law does not exist to protect secrecy for secrecy’s sake. It exists to serve the people. And when secrecy obstructs that service—when it hides truth, prevents accountability, or misleads the public—courts have both the authority and the obligation to act.

​

Multiple rulings across jurisdictions confirm that grand jury secrecy is not absolute. It can and must yield when justice, public trust, and institutional integrity are at stake.

​

In In re Craig, the D.C. Circuit recognized that courts have “inherent authority” to release grand jury materials when public interest demands transparency.

In United States v. Sealed Search Warrants, the Tenth Circuit acknowledged that a compelling need for disclosure may override secrecy—particularly when alleged misconduct or official concealment threatens democratic confidence.

​

In Bailey v. People, the Colorado Supreme Court warned that secrecy must never become a substitute for justice—especially when the very institutions entrusted with accountability are the ones shielding themselves.

​

That is precisely the situation before this Court.

​

In 1999, a Boulder grand jury found probable cause to indict John and Patsy Ramsey on two felony counts each: child abuse resulting in death and accessory to a crime. But the District Attorney refused to sign the indictment. The records were sealed. The public was misled. And to this day, more than 25 years later, no full legal explanation has ever been offered.

​

There is no active prosecution. No viable threat to witnesses. And any private information that remains sensitive can be reasonably redacted.

​

What remains is a secret that serves no legitimate purpose—except to preserve a false narrative and protect those who benefit from silence.

​

Unsealing these records would not just comply with the law. It would serve the public. It would serve the courts. And most of all, it would serve the child at the center of this case.

​

And selective secrecy doesn’t protect justice.

It buries it in the dark.
 

​Because justice for JonBenét should never have been sealed behind closed doors.

​

The law may have been silent. But this Court doesn’t have to be.

With respect, it is time to unseal the records.

​

Thank you, Your Honor.

​

​

​

* “Zansberg Doctrine” is used here as a respectful shorthand to describe the First Amendment transparency principles championed by attorney Steve Zansberg in numerous Colorado cases involving public accountability and access to information. This is not a formal legal doctrine but a term of advocacy-based attribution.

​

 

Disclaimer:

 

This document is provided for informational and advocacy purposes only. It is not intended to provide legal advice, create an attorney–client relationship, or serve as a substitute for legal counsel. Every effort has been made to ensure the accuracy, relevance, and citation of applicable case law and legal principles; however, no guarantees are made as to the completeness or current validity of the legal interpretations presented.

 

Any legal positions referenced herein reflect the author’s understanding and opinion based on publicly available information and existing precedent at the time of writing. Readers are strongly encouraged to consult qualified legal professionals before taking any legal action or relying on the contents of this document for official or judicial purposes.

​