The DA Who Mistook the Comments Section for God: How Dan Dow’s Retweets Broke Justice in San Luis Obispo

When church and state share an altar, justice bends to whatever Dan Dow’s ego needs from the comment section that day

When a sitting district attorney compares the election of a Muslim public official to the 9/11 terror attacks, the damage goes far beyond one tweet. It strikes at the moral core of the justice system itself.

San Luis Obispo County’s top prosecutor, Dan Dow, recently retweeted violent, Islamophobic posts equating New York Assemblymember Zohran Mamdani’s democratic win with the deadliest terrorist attack on U.S. soil. The imagery was unmistakable: the second plane, the burning towers, and the insinuation that a Muslim in elected office is a threat to America.

Having this up on my blog makes me sick, and I'll likely take it down, but it's here for context. And remember, kids, retweets don't imply endorsement!

That’s not just hateful—it’s catastrophic for a prosecutor who represents every citizen. A district attorney’s power depends entirely on the belief that their office is fair, impartial, and grounded in truth. When Dow engages in religiously bigoted rhetoric, he undercuts that foundation. He tells Muslim residents—explicitly—that they cannot trust his office.

And he tells defense attorneys across the state exactly how to undermine his cases.

Because here’s the legal reality: if Dow insists “retweets aren’t endorsements,” any competent defense lawyer can now argue that online posts can’t demonstrate intent or bias.

Screenshots? Toss them.

Threats? Context!

Digital evidence just became less reliable in his own jurisdiction—thanks to him.

Even the Council on American-Islamic Relations (CAIR-LA) condemned Dow’s posts as “a dark and dangerous bias wholly incompatible with the duties of your office.” The backlash wasn’t just political—it was moral. A prosecutor cannot traffic in hate and then claim to stand for justice.

The Pattern: When Bias Becomes Policy

If this were a one-off lapse in judgment, we could call it an apology-and-move-on situation. But it’s part of a long, disturbing pattern.

In 2020, when Black Lives Matter protests swept through San Luis Obispo, Dow’s office charged a handful of demonstrators—nearly all Black—with felonies for what was, by all accounts, a peaceful rally. A judge later ruled that Dow’s office was too compromised by political and racial bias to continue prosecuting the case. That’s not a slap on the wrist. That’s a legal declaration of lost credibility.

And earlier this year, Dow publicly accused a judge of giving “special treatment” to a defendant with alleged romantic ties to the defense attorney —a claim proven false when it turned out the judge was following standard procedure. It was a smear meant to inflame his base, not to uphold justice. And once again, he was told again, legally, to shut the fuck up on social media already.

Each of these moments paints the same picture: a man unable to separate personal ideology from public duty.

Here’s Where It Gets Personal

I know Dan Dow. I once considered him a friend. We’ve had conversations, shared laughs, even moments of mutual respect. But somewhere along the way, he stopped listening. He became allergic to criticism—even from people who cared about him.

He’s been seduced by the constant hum of affirmation from his MAGA base, mistaking the roar of the comments section in PRotect Paso for the word of God. And I say this with heartbreak, not hate: he’s lost. Lost in a feedback loop that rewards outrage over reflection. Lost in a church of ego that confuses attention for anointing.

I don’t wish him failure. I wish him clarity. I pray he finds the humility to see the false idols he’s begun to worship—and to remember the sacred weight of the office he holds.

The Consequences

Dan Dow’s actions have done what no organized crime ring could ever do: they’ve undermined faith in the very institution meant to protect us.

Victims now question whether the DA’s office will see them as human or as hashtags. Defendants—especially Muslim or Black defendants—will question whether they’ll ever get a fair trial. And the rest of us are left wondering who, exactly, justice serves anymore.

Mayor Erica Stewart was right when she said there’s no room for a DA making racist comments. But it’s not just about comments—it’s about consequences. It’s about an office that has become a stage for grievance rather than a guardian of justice.

The Way Back

Stepping down would be a start, but it’s not enough. Dow has never faced a serious challenger, and that’s how corruption calcifies: not through evil, but through apathy.

We don’t need to hate him—we need to replace him. With someone who believes that justice isn’t partisan. Someone who knows the difference between faith and fanaticism, between public service and self-service.

That’s a task placed upon the shoulders of the people of San Luis Obispo — are we going to get up, find the right person for the job, and work to get them elected? Or are we going to complacently sip our Edna Valley wine and nibble on Farmer’s Market organic produce while taking in a Central Coast sunset from our rattan patio furniture, arguing with bots in The Tribune comment section on our phones instead?

Because until that happens, the criminals win. The bigots win. And San Luis Obispo loses the one thing a community can’t function without: faith in the law.