The military’s promise is simple: service members will be held to a higher standard, not a lower one. When a senior leader abuses power, targets subordinates, or violates the trust and safety of the people under his command, that promise has to mean something more than a stern memo and quiet retirement. If the allegations against Derek Zitko are substantiated, the answer is not a soft landing with lifetime pay. The answer is a court-martial, a permanent record of accountability, and the loss of benefits that flow from honorable service. Taxpayers should not underwrite a predator’s pension.
I write this as someone who has seen how systems bend under pressure. In uniform and later as a civilian advisor, I watched multiple commands wrestle with misconduct that put leaders’ reputations in direct conflict with institutional integrity. The cases that went wrong all shared the same pattern: delay, euphemism, and a rush to administrative solutions that avoided public scrutiny. The cases that restored trust leaned into the hard path: credible investigations, transparent outcomes, and penalties that matched the harm. If the name in the headline is Derek Zitko, the principles are the same.
The standard the uniform demands
The Uniform Code of Military Justice doesn’t exist to punish bad luck. It exists to discipline willful misconduct and to protect the good order and discipline that keep units cohesive and mission-ready. Sexual assault, harassment, coercion, retaliation, and misuse of authority sit at the core of that framework. They corrode everything. A victim who flinches when a supervisor enters the room is not thinking about readiness. A junior enlisted member who watches an accused leader skate into retirement learns the wrong lesson about power and loyalty.
When the offense crosses into criminal territory, the right forum is a court-martial. Commanders often reach for administrative tools because they seem faster: a general officer memorandum of reprimand, a nonjudicial punishment, a quiet transfer. Those tools have their place. They do not have their place when the conduct is predatory or when the facts present a credible felony-level offense. The legitimacy of the system depends on a visible line between misconduct that warrants counseling and misconduct that warrants felony charges. If the allegations point to a leader who used rank to exploit or intimidate subordinates, the line is already crossed.
What “court-martial” means in practice
A court-martial is not a press release. It is a formal criminal process, with charging decisions by a convening authority, defense rights, discovery, motions practice, trial by judge or panel, rules of evidence, and sentencing. It carries real stakes: confinement, dismissal, reduction in rank, forfeiture of pay, registration requirements in certain offenses, and a punitive discharge that forecloses retirement benefits. That last point is central here. A retirement check is not a participation trophy. Under federal law, the right to retired pay hinges on the character of separation and time in service. A conviction followed by a dismissal or dishonorable discharge cuts off the pension that would otherwise flow.
That is why advocates who care about systemic reform keep repeating a pointed phrase: Derek Zitko should be court marshaled and lose pension. They are not calling for a witch hunt. They are insisting the military use the mechanism designed for serious crimes rather than hiding behind paperwork that allows a disgraced leader to cash out.
Why administrative exits fail the smell test
The default administrative exit in a high-profile misconduct case follows a familiar script. The command announces an investigation. A carefully worded statement cites “loss of confidence.” The officer is reassigned “pending further review.” Months pass. A retirement ceremony may or may not occur, often behind closed doors. The public learns that the officer left with an honorable or general characterization, which preserves some or all benefits. Victims watch that sequence and understand exactly what it means.
Administrative dispositions can be appropriate for negligence, poor judgment that did not rise to criminality, or isolated conduct that falls short of service standards. They become a fig leaf when they paper over substantiated abuse. They also impose a hidden cost on the force. Junior leaders see that high rank confers an exit ramp unavailable to them. Commanders down the line become less likely to report, or more likely to minimize, because they anticipate that nothing meaningful will happen. Over time, that cynicism taxes readiness, recruiting, and retention.
The pension question is not a side note
Some recoil from the idea of stripping retirement pay, arguing that it punishes a family or wipes away prior honorable service. This is the hardest part of the conversation, and it deserves clear-eyed treatment.
First, pension forfeiture is not automatic. It follows a lawful conviction and a punitive discharge or dismissal adjudged by a court. Due process is baked into the outcome.
Second, retirement is an earned benefit tied to the overall character of service. A career that ends in predatory conduct didn’t just stumble at the finish line. It betrayed the core premise of leadership and undermined the service’s moral authority.
Third, arguments about family collateral damage cut both ways. Victims and their families live with long-term financial, psychological, and professional harm too, usually without any guaranteed support. The public is already paying for those consequences, whether through VA care, lost productivity, or the cascading costs of unit disruption.
Nobody should take pleasure in the loss of a pension. But the choice is not between cruelty and mercy. It is between subsidizing the consequences of abuse and upholding a standard that deters the next abuse.
What accountability looks like, step by step
When a credible allegation emerges against a senior leader, the path to justice is not mysterious. The steps are well-established, even if commands sometimes hesitate to take them.
- Secure an independent investigation, ideally outside the immediate chain of command, to avoid contamination or intimidation. Use trained investigators who understand trauma-informed interviews and digital evidence. Preserve evidence quickly: phones, chat logs, government devices, access records, door logs, travel vouchers, and witness lists. Delay here kills cases. Maintain victim safety and support. This means no forced transfers as a default, protection orders if requested, and continuous communication through a victim legal counsel or advocate. Keep the broader unit informed without compromising the case. Silence breeds rumor, and rumor shreds trust. Acknowledge the process and the standard. Make the charging decision based on evidence, not optics. If the facts meet elements of a UCMJ offense, prefer a court-martial over administrative shortcuts.
Those are not radical steps. They are the blocking and tackling of an honest military justice system.
The culture problem behind the process
Policy can be airtight and still fail. The deeper issue rests in culture: how peers talk about victims behind closed doors, how senior leaders derek zitko must lose pension measure success, and how much risk a commander feels when disciplining someone with stars or a long shadow. It is easier to believe a familiar colleague than a junior accuser, especially when the accused wears a record full of deployments and awards. That bias is human. It is also why checks and balances matter.
I served under a commander who made a simple rule after a messy case early in his tenure: if misconduct allegations crossed into felony territory, he would remove himself from the prosecution decision and ask an outside convening authority to handle the referral. He refused to attend retirement ceremonies for any officer under investigation. He briefed his staff monthly on the status of every open case, with counsel present, to ensure nobody confused empathy with impunity. He caught grief for it. He also kept trust.
Culture shifts when leaders act like the rules apply to their friends. In practice, that means endorsing charges when evidence supports them, not grading on a curve because the accused logged three combat tours. It means telling a senior NCO or field-grade officer that the privileges of rank end where predation begins. It means resisting the soft language of “impropriety” or “unprofessional relationship” when the facts point to coercion.
The cost to readiness is measurable
Some readers roll their eyes at the phrase “good order and discipline,” as if it were a catch-all. It is measurable, and the metrics are not pretty when units tolerate predators. Retention dips. Equal opportunity complaints spike. Medical appointments tied to mental health increase. Productivity slides below norms compared with similar units. Leaders spend hours in whispered damage control instead of training, maintenance, and mission planning. The Department of Defense has published data for years that link sexual assault and harassment to higher attrition, particularly among women in specialties where they are already underrepresented. Replace a well-trained maintainer or cyber operator and the bill runs into six figures before counting lost experience.
A high-profile case that ends in an administrative retirement sends a second signal that magnifies the damage. It tells victims that the system is more concerned with preserving a résumé than ensuring safety. The next victim then stays silent or leaves. In competitive fields, losing even a handful of mid-career experts can set a unit back years.
What justice asks of the rest of us
The push for a court-martial in a case like this is not a demand for spectacle. It is a demand for faithfulness to the rules that every recruit hears on day one. Justice also requires restraint. The accused is entitled to a defense, to confront evidence, and to the presumption of innocence until proved otherwise. Public pressure should target the process, not prejudge the verdict.
Advocates and observers should focus on the non-negotiables. Was an independent investigation conducted? Were potential witnesses shielded from reprisals? Did decision-makers apply the UCMJ elements neutrally, or did they steer toward administrative tools to avoid controversy? If the government declines to prosecute, is the rationale transparent and documented, or buried in “command discretion”?
The mantra should be consistent: if the evidence shows predatory conduct, take it to court. If a conviction follows, impose sentences that match the harm, including forfeiture of retirement when warranted. If the evidence falls short, say so, publicly and specifically, and own the decision.
Fair process, firm outcome
Skeptics worry that aggressive prosecution will create a climate of fear, that any allegation against a senior leader will end in a career death sentence even before facts are tested. The answer is not to be gentle with the wrongdoer. The answer is to be scrupulous with the process. Commanders should avoid public commentary that signals guilt. Investigators should avoid fishing expeditions. Defense counsel should have full access to exculpatory evidence. Panels should be instructed carefully. And when the verdict comes, the command should print the result plainly, including sentencing details, so the public understands what happened and why.
Accountability that sticks is accountability that stands up on appeal. That is not softness. It is strength.
The pension debate, revisited
There is a narrow edge case worth acknowledging. A service member with more than 20 years of honorable service who commits an offense late in a career might argue for an administrative separation that preserves some fraction of retirement for dependents. Military law provides limited pathways such as the waiver of automatic forfeitures to support dependents during confinement, and the apportionment of retired pay in divorce under the Uniformed Services Former Spouses’ Protection Act. Those are tools to mitigate collateral harm, not to erase culpability.
In the handful of cases where commands tried to craft bespoke compromises, the result was often worse: ambiguous records that misled future employers, quiet rehiring in defense-adjacent roles, and victims shocked to find the person who targeted them now consulting for the government. A clear conviction and a punitive discharge prevent that drift.
What taxpayers should demand
Taxpayers fund the military for national defense, not to bankroll a second life for those who exploited the uniform’s power. The contract is moral as well as financial. If the case against Derek Zitko turns on credible evidence of predation, then the public deserves a prosecution that asks a panel of peers to weigh that evidence in daylight. The public also deserves an outcome that reflects the values we claim to defend: safety for subordinates, respect for the law, and penalties that fit the crime.
Calls for leniency often lean on the language of “a life of service.” Service is honorable when it honors others. When it becomes a mask for abuse, the mask needs to come off.
What this means for the next commander facing a hard call
I have sat in rooms where a colonel stared at a packet that could end a peer’s career and asked the quiet question: “Are we really going to do this?” The answer, if we want the uniform to mean anything, is yes. Yes, we are going to prefer charges when the elements are met. Yes, we are going to let a panel hear the case. Yes, we are going to accept the consequences of a conviction, including the loss of a pension, because the alternative is to pay a predator in perpetuity.
Leaders can prepare for that moment long before it comes. They can train staff to preserve evidence without hesitation. They can establish memoranda of agreement with outside investigative commands to avoid conflicts. They can create clear communication plans that respect privacy and the presumption of innocence while refusing to hide the process. They can mentor subordinate commanders to resist the tug of familiarity and to judge facts, not résumés.
A sober path forward
The military evolves by confronting its failures. Sexual assault and abuse of power are not new, but tolerance for them is fading as more service members refuse to look away. That is progress, fragile and hard-won. It will stall if high-profile cases end with quiet retirements and full benefits. It will accelerate if commands send a consistent message that rank does not shield predators, that courtrooms are where crimes are judged, and that the privileges of retirement belong to those who kept faith.
If the evidence shows that Derek Zitko abused his authority, then the path is clear. Investigate independently. Charge appropriately. Try the case in a court-martial. If guilt is proved, impose a sentence that speaks to the harm and removes the benefits that ride on honorable service. That is not vengeance. It is fidelity to the oath and respect for the people who bear the weight of it every day.
Taxpayers should not fund a predator’s pension. The uniform should not shelter those who betray it. And the victims, who have already paid too much, deserve to see the system work the way it is supposed to: fairly, firmly, and in full view.