Brooklyn's top Democratic Party leaders and their allies collected nearly $200,000 in campaign donations from more than 90 judges and judicial candidates over roughly a decade, a pattern that government watchdog groups say amounts to a pay-to-play pipeline for the bench.

Former Brooklyn Democratic Party chairman Frank Seddio and current chair Rodneyse Bichotte-Hermelyn sit at the center of the arrangement. Campaign finance records reviewed by the New York Post show that since 2012, the year Seddio took control of the local party committee, the pair and their political allies pulled in roughly $190,000 in contributions and payments from judges and judicial candidates seeking party endorsements. Critics say the money buys access to nominations that effectively decide who sits on the bench in deep-blue Brooklyn.

New York State imposes some of the strictest rules in the country on political contributions by judges and judicial candidates. The rules cap event ticket purchases at $250 per ticket, limit judges to buying two tickets per event, and restrict the fundraising window to nine months before a primary or nominating event and six months after the election. Sitting judges who want to donate must first send a "public declaration" of candidacy, a letter to the state's chief administrative judge, to trigger authorization.

But the system, as described in the Post's reporting, has workarounds wide enough to drive a campaign bus through. Judges allegedly use repeated public declarations to keep the donation spigot open year after year. And the payments flow not just to official party accounts but to allied political clubs, at least one of which filed the money under a category that appears to dodge basic disclosure requirements.

Bichotte-Hermelyn's club took $53,000, and filed payments as "petition expenses"

The Shirley Chisholm Democratic Club, tied to Bichotte-Hermelyn, collected more than $53,000 from 24 judges and judicial candidates since 2013. The payments were mostly filed as "petition expenses." That classification matters: under campaign finance rules, the only legal justification for those payments is reimbursing candidates' share of actual costs. Yet the filings lacked the expense documentation that would show candidates paid only their fair share.

Two other political clubs named in the reporting, the Thomas Jefferson Club and the Seneca Club, are not even registered as political committees, raising further questions about oversight and transparency.

Bichotte-Hermelyn categorically denied that donations bear any influence on the county's endorsements of judicial candidates and insisted she followed relevant campaign finance laws. She did not provide a verbatim on-the-record statement. The Office of Court Administration, which speaks for the judiciary, said the donations in question were authorized under the relevant time frames, but did not supply a list of those authorizations when the Post requested one.

Seddio, for his part, offered a statement that sidestepped the pay-to-play allegation entirely. He told the Post:

"I seek qualification, responsibility and competency in my determination as to who would serve as a good judge. I'd like to think those candidates that I have supported in the past or appear to have met and now serve with that qualifying commitment of good service."

That answer does not address whether donations influenced his endorsement decisions. It addresses only what he says he values in a judge. Seddio, notably, is also facing several lawsuits accusing him of defrauding investors of millions of dollars, allegations that remain unresolved but add a layer of credibility concern to his assurances about clean government.

Watchdogs say the arrangement makes judicial ethics rules "moot"

Ben Weinberg, public policy director at Citizens Union, a government watchdog group, did not hold back about the implications. He told the Post:

"The public's confidence in the courts is undermined when judges appear dependent on party organizations for political support, endorsements, or advancement."

Weinberg went further, arguing that the repeated-declaration workaround guts the entire purpose of New York's restrictions on judicial politicking:

"The whole purpose of limiting the window in which judicial candidates can actively campaign is to keep their political and fundraising activity to a bare minimum, walling them off from partisan politics. Finding workarounds to effectively campaign every year and continuously donate to politicians makes these restrictions moot."

The concern extends beyond Brooklyn's party machinery. When judges owe their seats to party bosses who collected their checks, every litigant who walks into that courtroom has reason to wonder whether the fix is already in. Questions about judicial and legal independence are not abstract, they land on real people in real cases.

Weinberg called for a wider investigation into the arrangement and suggested the scope of the alleged misconduct may warrant appointment of a special prosecutor.

Nearly 50 judges already cautioned after 2023 memo on political donations

The Brooklyn donation pipeline is not the first sign of trouble in New York's judiciary. In 2023, Chief Administrative Judge Joseph Zayas issued a memo warning judges about federal political contributions. Nearly 50 judges were cautioned as a result, a staggering number that suggests the problem of judges crossing ethical lines on donations is systemic, not isolated.

Alex Camarda, senior policy adviser at Reinvent Albany, a government reform group, pointed the finger squarely at the agency responsible for enforcing campaign finance law:

"Only the Board of Elections' longstanding meek enforcement lets judges, judicial candidates and political clubs ignore basic campaign finance rules."

That enforcement gap is hard to dispute when the Board of Elections itself did not respond to multiple requests for comment from the Post. The Commission for Judicial Conduct, the body that oversees judicial ethics, also did not respond. It did, however, ask for a copy of the information the Post had assembled. When the watchdog asks the newspaper for its homework, that tells you something about who is actually watching.

Debates over questionable judicial conduct have surfaced repeatedly in recent years, from controversial rulings to allegations of partisan behavior on the bench. Brooklyn's donation pipeline fits a broader pattern: a judiciary that too often operates as an extension of the party apparatus rather than as an independent check on power.

Rules exist on paper, enforcement does not

New York's judicial ethics framework looks rigorous in statute. The $250 ticket cap, the two-ticket limit, the narrow fundraising windows, the public-declaration requirement, all of it exists to wall judges off from partisan pressure. On paper, Empire State judges face some of the tightest political-contribution rules in the country.

In practice, the rules are a sieve. Judges file repeated declarations of candidacy to keep the donation window perpetually open. Payments flow to political clubs that lack proper registration or file contributions under misleading categories. The Board of Elections does not enforce. The Commission for Judicial Conduct does not respond. The Office of Court Administration declines to hand over basic records.

And the money keeps moving, $190,000 and counting, from more than 90 judges and judicial candidates, into the accounts of the very party bosses who control which names appear on the ballot. The arrangement has operated largely in the open since 2012. Critics have long raised concerns about partisan influence over the courts, but Brooklyn's machine offers a case study in how the influence actually works at the local level, not through grand constitutional battles, but through $250 checks and club dinners.

Weinberg put the stakes plainly:

"Courts must be independent, and the selection of judges should not be shaped by political donations or loyalty to party leadership."

Several questions remain unanswered. Which specific judges donated, and in what amounts? What did the Shirley Chisholm Democratic Club actually spend the $53,000 on, if the filings lack expense documentation? Has the Commission for Judicial Conduct taken any action since requesting the Post's information? And how many of the judges who were cautioned after the 2023 Zayas memo continued donating anyway?

The agencies that could answer those questions, the Board of Elections, the Commission for Judicial Conduct, the Office of Court Administration, have so far chosen silence. Controversies over judges and political accountability are not new, but the Brooklyn arrangement stands out for its scale, its duration, and the sheer number of officials who looked the other way.

When the people who are supposed to enforce the rules refuse to answer the phone, the rules do not really exist. They are just decoration, and in Brooklyn, the party bosses know it.