A look into a life of problems and promise through a New York courtroom
Wednesday, in a marble-floored federal courtroom a man — a father, brother, and boyfriend — sat hopefully. A judge prepared to read him the next chapter of his life.
That man is 28-year-old Chris Savinon. He had an entourage of loved ones in the glossy wooden courtroom seats rooting for him. Though he had to wear a yellow jumpsuit, he turned and smiled at them like he was at a family dinner. Seeing his face, they smiled ear-to-ear.
One of the people in that crowd was his girlfriend, 22-year-old AnnMarie Sanchez. According to her letter to the judge, she’s a college student in the medical field.
She first met Savinon in 2017, while they each lived in Florida. “Christopher always admired my uncle,” she said in the letter to the judge. “You would see him playing games with my uncle, and always making my uncle laugh. And that’s what made me fall in love with him.”
Sanchez lives with her mother, Barbara Sanchez, who’s also a big fan of Savinon’s.
“Mr. Savinon and I always had a great friendship before he turned into a son of mine,” she wrote in her own letter to the sentencing judge. “Christopher has always been a helping hand in anything and everything I’ve needed.”
Savinon was born in the Bronx, and lived with an “overburdened” single mother, according to his public defense lawyer, Julia Gatto. “Christopher went to underperforming, overcrowded public schools where the teachers and counselors paid him little mind,” she wrote in her letter. “He dropped out of school before the 10th grade.”
When high school didn’t work out in the Bronx, his mom sent him to Florida to live with family.
He made progress there. He found work in a telemarketing office, and took the steps he needed to take, passing his G.E.D. He even started studying at a Christian Ministry school.
“While we were out there, he was such a different person,” AnnMarie wrote. “He didn’t listen to any other music but gospel.”
She says to this day, “this man will recite you almost every verse in the bible.”
But, as a late teen who now had his act together, he came back to the Bronx to be with his mom.
Then, at 19, he started using cocaine and heroin.
That year, he got arrested for the first time, for drugs. Court records show he got arrested nearly every year after that, which, as Gatto mentioned in court, was mostly to fund his addiction. A cycle with no end in sight: his defense argued in court that he kept getting sent to prisons where drugs are readily available, and no recovery programs.
According to the NAACP, African-Americans represent 29% of those arrested for drugs, and 33% of those incarcerated — but only 5% of actual drug users. The organization also states that Black and white people use drugs at similar rates, but the imprisonment rate for Black people is almost six times higher.
On May 26, 2020, fresh out of jail and still addicted, he answered a phone call. A man said that he wanted to buy a small bundle of heroin. Court records show Savinon met him nearby, at 1908 Belmont Ave. in The Bronx. He got in the man’s car, and did the deal: a new customer on the horizon.
The man kept calling, and the bundles kept getting bigger and bigger, by the pound. They continued their meetups until September 24, 2020, when Savinon’s house was raided by police. The “new customer” turned out to be a Homeland Security agent.
AnnMarie, who cares for Savinon’s five-year-old son, expressed to the judge that all Chris wants to do is get out, get help, and support his son with money he makes legally.
At the end of the sentencing, Judge Lewis J. Liman took off his mask for a moment, and told Savinon he had the right to see the face of the man who’s going to be sentencing him. He offered Savinon the chance to do the same, which he did.
Offered a moment to speak, Chris Savinon looked the judge in the eyes while holding back tears. He said “I finally have the motivation and something to fight for: my family. That’s all your honour.”
Judge Liman sentenced him to four-and-a-half years, double what defender Gatto asked for, which was two years max.
AnnMarie wore sunglasses, hiding tears. A friend put her arm around her.
A final “all rise!” to adjourn. Savinon’s group, frozen, did not stand up.