By Alex Zdan
The worst Governor of New Jersey in my lifetime is finally out of office at noon tomorrow.
Gov. Phil Murphy leaves behind a broken legacy of performative empathy, gross negligence, a thirst for expanding governmental power, wholesale theft of individual rights and mass death.
I had a front-row seat to his crimes, working as a television newscaster covering his immoral and unconstitutional actions during the covid-19 pandemic.
It was a theater of the absurd, performances playing multiple days per week.
From the clank of the heavy wooden doors entering the War Memorial building in Trenton, to the shrill chime of a cheap drug store thermometer placed on my forehead for no apparent reason, to the attempts at profundity delivered by below-par speechwriters, Gov. Murphy’s covid briefings took on the tenor of a wannabe prestige streaming drama, overcooked yet empty, perpetually searching for a plot.
Promptly, within two or three minutes of 1 p.m., Murphy would step to a cloth-covered table alongside his Cabinet members, sit, dramatically remove one or two face masks and deliver a sermon on fear.
He spoke of decisions justified by Data and Science, but the room reeked of politics. The entire performance was an act of control.
Via numerous executive orders, Murphy closed stores, mandated masks, ordered vaccinations, shuttered schools and shut down public funerals. He presented these infringements on civil liberties as a societal sacrifice in a war against a deadly pathogen, yet the public didn’t get a vote on his actions.
For two years, the pronouncements from Trenton were the law of the land, bulletproof and court-protected. And by virtue of being a journalist, I was the only person in the state able to both be in that room and channel the cries of the public, directly questioning the governor on behalf of citizens enraged their rights were violated.
By far the most egregious Murphy move was the order that senior citizens released from nursing homes after being treated for covid were required to go back to their homes if they wished. This caused utter chaos among hundreds of facilities ill-equipped to treat and separate so many sick patients. And the overwhelmed healthcare workers, the frontline soldiers Murphy and his cabinet so often lionized, became unwitting vectors for the virus as they toiled between different homes and care centers.
How many of the 35,000 residents who died during the pandemic – among the highest level of carnage per population in the United States – need not have died? How many families suffered as Murphy madly fiddled through propagandistic updates before the cameras in the capital?
The only irony was Murphy played to a small audience, lacking the New York media muscle of Andrew Cuomo, the flashiness of Gavin Newsom or the pocketbook of JB Pritzker.
Among the assembled New Jersey press corps, there was a sense that there was no point to question Murphy. That his orders were going to be implemented regardless. That those who objected were kooks and wackos and should just be sitting at home enjoying the show.
I never felt that way. They must not have seen what I saw.
The children climbing the walls at home because schools were closed. The small business owners desperately trying to make ends meet, a full one-third of them failing. Terrified autistic children held down for forced vaccinations. Masked supermarket workers hauling in food so their stores could open early for panicked older residents. Loved ones mourning without funerals. Liquor stores open while churches were closed.
All due to the actions of Phil Murphy.
It is my belief that these actions were largely political, designed in part to set Murphy up as the 2024 presidential contender he clearly wanted desperately to be.
But even the actual President was ahead of Murphy.
In May of 2021, President Joe Biden’s Centers for Disease Control abruptly ordered the indoor mask mandate lifted, clearly catching Murphy and his cabinet off guard.
For two weeks, Murphy dragged his feet, loathe to criticize his party’s president but incapable of dropping the power that was in his hands.
A few days before Memorial Day, Murphy relented. “Key COVID-19 Benchmarks Achieved,” the press release claimed. That was quick.
During that day’s briefing, my cameraman texted me from across the room:
“Murphy looks defeated.”
I continued my questioning, unrelenting, until the final briefing of the covid control experiment in March 2022.
On a cloudless day in October 2023, as Senator Bob Menendez prepared for a perp walk in lower Manhattan, I was called off that story and into a conference room at the network studios.
My services were no longer required. Downsizing, you see. Getting rid of specialized beats. Politics is important, of course. Get your stuff and get out. You have 10 minutes.
Message received.
That day I stopped questioning and started fighting. My journey changed.
My mission changed.
There’s an oft-repeated quote that the price of liberty is eternal vigilance.
In New Jersey, it’s truly a full-time job, especially as Murphy hands over the office to a successor who may be even more greedy for power than he ever was.
We must hold incoming Gov. Mikie Sherrill accountable.
Goodbye Phil Murphy, goodbye lockdowns, goodbye rule by fiat, and don’t ever come back.
We are watching.
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Alex Zdan is a veteran New Jersey television journalist.
