FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE:
Statement from Shela Linton on Jacob P. Zorn v. Shela M. Linton
BRATTLEBORO, VT—March 27, 2026
This week, the Supreme Court of the United States ruled in Jacob P. Zorn v. Shela M. Linton that the officer who injured me during a peaceful protest is shielded from accountability under qualified immunity.
This ruling is not just about one officer who harmed me—violating my Fourth Amendment rights through the use of excessive force while I was exercising my First Amendment right to peacefully protest. It is about a system that perpetuates harm, and then protects itself.
What the Supreme Court’s decision affirms is that qualified immunity continues to function as a shield for misconduct. It sends a message that even when harm is clear, even when there is evidence, even when people within the system recognize something went wrong, accountability can still be denied.
This is not an isolated incident. This is systemic.
How my case got to the Supreme Court of The United States
I was one of 29 people arrested during a peaceful sit-in at the State Capitol in 2015, protesting because I believe Healthcare is a Human Right. Of those 29, three of us were people of color—and we were the three who were harmed. We were also the only three who did not originally receive plea agreements. .
During my arrest, I was physically injured in a way that has caused permanent damage. I was later examined by a medical professional hired by the opposing side who confirmed those injuries to be permanent and believed to be caused by the excessive force of Jacob Zorn.
Justice Sotomayor, in her dissent, clearly described what happened to me, writing that I was “a nonviolent protestor who was peacefully demonstrating at a sit-in in the Vermont capitol,” and that the officer “placed Linton’s left arm into a rear wristlock by twisting her arm and shoulder, ‘snapp[ing]’ her wrist.”
She affirmed the United States Court of Appeals for the Second Circuit’s determination that “a jury could find that Zorn violated Linton’s clearly established Fourth Amendment rights,” and notes that “as a result of this event, Linton ‘suffered permanent damage to her left wrist and shoulder’ and has been ‘diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder, depression, and anxiety.’”
Justice Sotomayor also emphasized that, “Consistent with the concept of a nonviolent sit-in protest, . . . none of [the demonstrators] attacked the officers or used any form of violence,” and highlighted that Trooper Seth Richardson, the other officer involved in my arrest, described the “level of safety threat in the environment [as] ‘[v]ery low.’”
After the incident, I made the decision to file a lawsuit—not just against the officer, but against the system responsible for that officer: his supervisor and the Vermont State Police. Over time, the courts narrowed that case until the only issue that remained was whether the officer who directly harmed me could be held personally accountable for my injuries under qualified immunity.
For nearly four years, I represented myself. I did my own legal research, filed my own briefs, and carried this case forward without resources. Eventually, a judge recognized that I could not continue without legal support and assigned me legal representation. That is the only reason I was able to get as far as I did.
Throughout this process, I was offered opportunities to settle. I refused.
I refused because settlement would have required my silence. And I was not willing to be silenced. I wanted accountability. I wanted awareness. I wanted to contribute to legal precedent that could protect others in the future. I refused to settle because I wanted justice for all of us.
The case moved through the courts. I lost. I appealed. I won that appeal and was finally granted the right to return to Vermont for a trial. Then the state appealed that decision to the Supreme Court.
After nearly a decade of litigation, the Supreme Court ruled against me—upholding qualified immunity.
What I Learned
What I learned is that the legal system, from law enforcement to the courts, is not built around truth. It is built around what can be proven within laws that were never designed to protect people like me.
I learned that when you challenge qualified immunity, you are the one put on trial. Your body, your history, your character. Everything becomes subject to scrutiny. I was demeaned, gaslit, discredited, and forced to defend my humanity at every stage.
I also learned that there are so many points along the way where systemic harm is allowed to happen—where people choose to protect systems rather than challenge the harm they perpetuate. At every level, those choices reinforce these systems. And even when people recognize that harm, they may be unable—or choose not—to act.
There were four systems in my case where people with decision-making power shaped how this played out: law enforcement, diversion and accountability, the medical system, and the courts. In law enforcement, the other officer involved described the conditions as not warranting the level of force used against me. In the diversion process, where I was expected to be held accountable, the harm I suffered was affirmed instead. In the medical system, multiple professionals—including those brought in by the opposing side—confirmed that I had sustained permanent physical and psychological harm. In the courts, judges recognized the validity of my case—allowing it to move forward, assigning me legal counsel, and ruling in my favor at critical stages.
Across each of these systems, people saw what happened, acknowledged the harm, and even questioned it. And still, the system held.
That is what systemic harm looks like.
I also learned how inaccessible justice is. Without resources—legal, financial, emotional—accountability is nearly impossible to achieve. Most people will never even get as far as I did.
What This Means for Communities of Color
Qualified immunity does not impact everyone equally.
People of color live with the cumulative effects of systemic racism. Physical, psychological, and historical. Encounters with law enforcement are not isolated incidents; they exist within a broader context of harm we are already carrying.
This decision reinforces a system where that harm can continue without consequence.
And that has real impacts. Not just legally, but on our bodies, our health, and our sense of safety in the world.
What I Am Asking
For a long time, my answer would have been simple: fight.
And I still believe in fighting for systemic change. But I also understand now just how much that requires—and how much it takes from a person. Especially as a black woman already navigating multiple intersections of systemic harm.
So what I am asking is this:
Pay attention to the systems you are part of and the decisions you make within them. Speak up when you see harm, especially if you hold power. Challenge policies which create harm and racial disparities, and create new policies rooted in humanity and equity. Support organizations and movements working toward systemic change. Organizations like Migrant Justice and The Root Social Justice Center that center those most impacted by systemic oppression. Help build a collective movement to challenge qualified immunity.
This journey began when I joined the Vermont Worker’s Center to stand up for Healthcare as a Human Right, and I will continue to advocate for change that benefits us all. This is not about me. This is about whether we accept a system where harm can happen without accountability—or whether we choose to change it.
Media contact:
Shela Linton
Executive Director
The Root Social Justice Center
executivedirector@therootsjc.org
—
Derrick Miller-Handley (all pronouns welcome)
Communications Director
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802-451-9433
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