Here’s another repeat offender — a habitual criminal that Illinois now politely rebrands as a “justice-impacted individual” — back out on the streets instead of rotting in prison where his rap sheet demands. Welcome to Illinois, where prison sentences run like dog years in reverse: a few short years behind bars magically translate into endless second, third, fourth, and fifth chances to terrorize the public.
Meet Menard Allison, 34, the poster boy for “reform.” On a Saturday night near 67th and Halsted, two Chicago cops in a marked squad spotted him (while wearing a ski-mask like a cheap 70s crime drama) joyriding a scooter like it was a getaway vehicle — slicing through parking lots, blasting through signals, ignoring yields. He promptly ate a pole on the sidewalk. I know. Pass me a tissue. That’s terrible!
When officers approached the ski-masked wonder with the suspicious jacket bulge (no, he definitely wasn’t glad to see the cops), he flashed a phone instead of compliance, then sprinted like his freedom depended on it (spoiler alert: it did).
He darted into the Kennedy King College parking lot, where a third officer waited. Allison allegedly whipped out a loaded 9mm with a laser sight and extended magazine, pointed it at the squad car, and opened fire. Muzzle flashes, laser dot on the vehicle, bullet slamming the pavement — all captured on camera. No cops hit, but only by the grace of bad aim and quick reactions.
Cops nabbed him minutes later. They recovered the gun, nine packs of suspected cocaine, the mask, and positive gunshot residue on his shooting hand. Ballistics matched perfectly. He’s now staring down attempted first-degree murder of a peace officer, aggravated discharge of a firearm at an officer, felon in possession, drug charges, and yet another failure to register as a sex offender. A judge actually ordered him detained — for now.
Don’t worry though. With credit for good time, he will probably be out for Christmas of next year.
But wait, this wasn’t some tragic first mistake. Allison is a career recidivist with a highlight reel of violence, guns, drugs, fleeing, and cop-assaulting:
- 2006 (juvenile): Adjudicated for aggravated criminal sexual abuse and shipped to Youth Corrections — the gift that keeps on giving via lifelong sex offender registration he’s treated like optional homework.
- 2012: Convicted of aggravated unlawful use of a weapon and failure to register as a sex offender. Pattern emerging?
- 2015: Aggravated fleeing and eluding — classic police chase, stop signs optional, barrier wall on the Dan Ryan as the grand finale.
- 2021: While already on bond and probation, he crashes into cars, hops out, and unloads his gun on passing vehicles (at least one occupied). Four years for unlawful use of a weapon. In a bonus consecutive case from the same era, he vaults a fence, jumps officers on a porch, and punches one in the face — three more years for aggravated battery of a peace officer.
Fresh out of the joint, Allison couldn’t resist bragging to his arresting officers: he “just got out of prison for beating other police officers.” He was also sitting on two active warrants for blowing off misdemeanor court dates in Sangamon County. Non-compliant sex offender? Check. Reckless scooter cowboy with a laser-sighted murder attempt? Double check.
Illinois lawmakers, in their infinite compassion, pushed through language swapping “offender” for “justice-impacted individual” in programs designed to keep more people out of prison via community hugs alternatives. Because nothing says accountability like a soothing euphemism that sounds like the guy got hit by a bus instead of choosing a life of crime.
Critics rightly called it a semantic sleight-of-hand that minimizes harm and insults victims. Whether the exact label sticks to Allison or not, the revolving door sure does: serve a bit of time (with generous credits, of course), hit the streets, rack up warrants, ignore registration, then allegedly try to ventilate another cop while high on whatever’s in those nine coke packs.
In the Land of Lincoln, the system doesn’t warehouse “justice-impacted” talents like Allison — it rotates them like a bad carnival ride. Another day, another near-miss for the thin blue line while the public plays Russian roulette with a guy who treats court orders like suggestions and police like piñatas. Progress!
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