On a late summer evening in 2025, a Portland prosecutor reviewed another case file where someone released pretrial on minimal conditions had committed a new offense. The pattern repeats, though not in every case, but enough to fuel frustration.
Across the state, defense attorneys and bail reform advocates point to individuals still languishing in custody for minor offenses, unable to afford release conditions. We both believe the system is broken, but we can’t both be wrong, can we?
Four years after Oregon’s seismic shift away from traditional bail with the July 1, 2022, implementation of a presumption of release for most accused individuals, the system is still broken. The state finds itself exactly where it started. Trapped between two irreconcilable goods, to protect the innocent from pretrial incarceration and the will to protect communities from possibly preventable criminal activity.
Oregon’s attempt to choose one has created a system that satisfies neither goal. And aren’t we still innocent until proven guilty?
Where We’ve Been
In April 2021, the United States Commission on Civil Rights released its damning report on Oregon’s bail practices. The findings were clear: pretrial detention was being used too liberally, disproportionately harming people of color, Indigenous people, and low-income individuals.
The report cited heartbreaking cases of people incarcerated for years awaiting trial, eventually acquitted but left psychologically broken. The recommendations pointed toward reduction of pretrial detention, implementing risk-based assessment, and creating flexible bail options for marginalized populations.
Oregon took those recommendations seriously. Perhaps too seriously. Rather than implementing nuanced, individualized risk assessment, the state opted to eliminate bail as a primary tool entirely and presume release unless specific legal criteria are met.
It seemed like a good idea in theory, but theory doesn’t account for the Carlos Jimenez-Vargas case, a man arrested for domestic violence who, released pretrial, shot and killed his wife, her sister, and himself six weeks later. And it doesn’t account for the countless smaller tragedies that don’t make headlines.
The System Since 2022
Under Oregon’s new framework, courts must presume that an accused person will be released on their own recognizance. They go free with just a promise to return. Bail can be imposed only if the prosecution can demonstrate, by clear and convincing evidence, that no condition of release will reasonably protect the community. The standard is high… By design.
The result has been predictable: more people released pretrial. But “more released” doesn’t tell the whole story. The question that matters is, “were more released safely?”
District attorneys across Oregon report persistent challenges. They describe an inability to use monetary conditions to incentivize compliance. They cite GPS monitoring that operates only during business hours on weekdays. A schedule that protects none of us at 2am on a Saturday.
They point to victims who feel abandoned by a system that prioritizes the accused person’s pretrial liberty over their safety. And there is a troubling pattern. Individuals arrested for violent crimes, released on conditions, then arrested again for new violent offenses.
Yet reform advocates counter with their own data. They cite studies showing that pretrial release does not significantly increase crime rates when compared to other jurisdictions. They document cases where individuals remain in custody despite posing minimal risk, their lives derailed before they’ve had a trial.
They remind us that most people released pretrial do comply with their conditions. They note that detention itself can lead to worse outcomes, like lost employment, family separation, mental health deterioration. All actors that actually increase criminality over time.
The Data Question
Here’s what we don’t fully know: comprehensive pretrial release outcomes for 2024 and 2025. While Oregon corrections officials track system performance, detailed public data on recidivism rates, compliance with release conditions, and comparative safety metrics remains limited. We know some people released pretrial commit new crimes. We don’t know what percentage, how serious those crimes are, or how this compares to jurisdictions with different approaches.
This data gap matters. You cannot run a system—or reform one—on anecdotes and philosophy alone. You need information. Oregon has not yet provided it at scale. This remains one of the most damning critiques of the current system: not that it’s failing, necessarily, but that we don’t actually know if it’s working.
The Equity Question Remains
One thing we do know is that disparities in Oregon’s criminal legal system persist. People of color, Indigenous people, and low-income individuals still face disproportionate scrutiny in pretrial decisions. The shift away from bail didn’t eliminate that problem—it just changed its form. Someone still has to decide who’s “dangerous.” That discretion, that judgment, still carries biases. Still carries history.
The dream was that removing money would remove racism. Instead, we’ve learned that racism is more systemic than that. It lives in every decision point. It lives in who gets arrested in the first place. It lives in the assumptions prosecutors and judges bring to courtrooms. Changing bail policy alone cannot fix what’s broken in the foundation.
The 2026 Horizon
As Oregon heads into 2026, the legislature will face increasing pressure from both sides. Public safety advocates are pushing for reforms that would allow judges more discretion in detention decisions, better monitoring technology, and meaningful victim involvement in pretrial release decisions. Reform advocates continue advocating for alternatives to incarceration, more robust community supervision, and protections against discriminatory practices.
Several bills are likely to surface. Nothing is passed yet—this is legislative reality, not prediction. But the conversation is accelerating. The current system has accumulated enough friction that change feels inevitable. The only question is what direction it takes.
The Real Problem
Here’s what deserves honest acknowledgment: you cannot solve a values problem with policy alone.
We have fundamentally competing values. We believe in the presumption of innocence—a cornerstone of justice. We also believe in community safety—a prerequisite for freedom itself. We believe that poverty shouldn’t determine liberty. We also believe that some people genuinely pose risks that can’t be managed through monitoring.
Oregon’s current system privileges one value. Critics want it to privilege others. But every choice has costs. This is the difficult truth that neither the original bail system nor the new pretrial release system can escape.
What Might Work
If we’re serious about both equity and safety, the path forward requires several things:
First, individualized assessment. Not blanket policies in either direction. Risk assessment tools (imperfect though they are) should only guide decisions. Judges should have real discretion, not theoretical discretion to tailor release conditions to specific circumstances.
Second, resources for compliance. If you’re going to release someone on conditions, those conditions must be achievable. That means treatment services, stable housing assistance, transportation, mental health support. It’s expensive but it’s also cheaper than incarceration and more humane than pretrial detention.
Third, meaningful monitoring. GPS technology that works 24/7. Regular check-ins. Drug testing for those with substance use issues. Not as punishment, but as accountability and support.
Fourth, transparency and data. Oregon must commit to public, detailed reporting on pretrial release outcomes. What percentage comply? How many reoffend? How serious are new offenses? Why hide the data?
Fifth, victim involvement. Safety and dignity for crime victims must be part of the equation. This doesn’t mean always opposing release, it means victims having a voice in the process and being kept informed of conditions.
Finally, we need an honest assessment of limits. Some people are just too dangerous to release pretrial. A system that cannot impose detention even in extreme cases has abandoned its responsibility to the people it serves.
The Deeper Question
In 2026, Oregon faces a choice about what kind of criminal legal system it wants to be. Not whether to reform or not because that ship sailed.
The answer isn’t binary. It’s not bail-or-bust, detention-or-freedom. The system cannot eliminate all tragedies. But we need to balance our decisions to mitigate disaster.
What Oregon shouldn’t do is pretend the tension doesn’t exist. For nearly a decade since the 2021 USCCR report, the state has been navigating between equity and safety. It hasn’t resolved the tension. It’s just shifted which group bears the cost of it.
In 2026, the conversation will continue. The bills will come. The advocates on both sides will make their cases. And Oregon will have another chance to get this right.