This week, video surfaced showing a Miami-Dade corrections officer repeatedly striking a handcuffed inmate inside an elevator at the Pre-Trial Detention Center. The officer swung on the restrained man multiple times. The inmate, Spencer Butler, was heard on body camera footage hours later yelling that he had been beaten.

The officer, Myth Louis-Jeune, was charged with misdemeanor battery. But here is the part that should concern every person sitting inside a Miami-Dade jail right now, and every family member waiting on the outside: the beating happened on March 1, 2023. Charges were not filed until January 30, 2026. Nearly three years passed before the State Attorney's Office acted.

And this was not an isolated incident. In a separate case at Dade Correctional Institution in Florida City, seven corrections officers were arrested and charged with battery on a detainee, tampering with physical evidence, failure to report use of force, and perjury — after investigators determined that two officers kicked and punched a handcuffed inmate named Christopher Castro in the face, head, and back while five other officers watched and said nothing.

I am not writing this post to attack corrections officers. The vast majority do a difficult, dangerous, and underpaid job with professionalism. But when an officer crosses the line — when force is used not to maintain order but to punish, to retaliate, or to send a message — Florida law is clear: that is a crime.

Under § 944.35, Florida Statutes, a corrections officer is only authorized to use physical force on an inmate when it is reasonably necessary for specific, limited purposes: self-defense, preventing escape, preventing property damage, or maintaining institutional order. Force used outside of those circumstances — particularly force used with malicious intent against a restrained person — is not "doing the job." It is battery.

In the Dade Correctional case, officers were charged under multiple provisions — battery, evidence tampering, perjury, and failure to report. The system held them accountable. But it only happened because investigators were able to piece together what occurred in an area with no surveillance cameras.

According to prosecutors, the delay in filing charges against Officer Louis-Jeune was because the officer's previous defense attorney requested additional time to investigate and present mitigation evidence and expert opinions. Three years of additional time.

Meanwhile, the officer remained employed. Records show he had already been suspended for a separate use-of-force/excessive force incident in November 2021 — two years before the elevator beating. He was eventually relieved of duty with pay after the charges were filed.

That disparity is why having an attorney who understands both sides of the system matters.

If you believe that someone you love has been subjected to excessive force or abuse inside a Miami-Dade correctional facility, there are steps you can take — but you need to act quickly:

Two separate incidents. Two separate facilities. Eight officers charged. Video evidence in one case, investigative evidence in the other. A pattern of officers believing they can use force without consequence — and in some cases, conspiring to hide it.

If you have a family member inside the Miami-Dade Pre-Trial Detention Center or Dade Correctional Institution right now, these are not abstract news stories. This is the environment your loved one is living in every day.

And if your family member is the one facing criminal charges — if they are the defendant, not the victim — they still have rights. Being accused of a crime does not strip away the right to be free from cruel and unusual punishment. The Eighth Amendment to the United States Constitution and Article I, Section 17 of the Florida Constitution both prohibit excessive force against incarcerated individuals. Being arrested does not make you less human. Being charged does not make you a punching bag.

I am a former prosecutor. I have worked inside the system. I have seen how cases are built, how evidence is handled, and how decisions are made about who gets charged and who does not. I chose to leave prosecution and dedicate my practice to criminal defense because I believe that everyone — including the person sitting in a jail cell right now reading charges they do not fully understand — deserves someone fighting for them.

These cases out of Miami-Dade are a reminder that the system is not always just. Officers with prior disciplinary histories remain on the job for years. Beatings of handcuffed people go uncharged for nearly three years. Fellow officers watch abuse happen and say nothing.

If you or someone you love is facing criminal charges in Miami-Dade County, you need an attorney who knows how the system works — and how it fails.