Delaware
Crash on Del. highway leads to man hit, killed by passing truck on Saturday, police say
A man was killed on Saturday night after his car was hit by another vehicle and he started to walk along the highway before being hit by a third car, according to the Delaware State Police.
This all unfolded around 11:30 p.m. on Saturday, April 4 as a Ford Winstar and Kia Optima were going northbound on Interstate 495 near 12th Street, police said.
At one point, the front of the Kia crashed into the back of the Ford and the Ford hit a guardrail, officials explained.
The man driving the Ford, identified as Upper Darby resident 45-year-old Mark Barnett, Sr., then started to walk along I-495 when he was hit by a Ram 1500 pickup truck, according to police.
Barnett was taken to a nearby hospital where he was pronounced dead, police said.
The driver of the Ram pickup was identified as a 65-year-old man from Gillett, Pennsylvania, and he was not hurt, police reported.
The driver of the Kia left as officers made it to the scene, officials said.
I-495 was shut down to traffic for about five hours as detectives investigated.
If you have any footage of the incident or have any information that could help investigators, please contact Cpl. D. McKenna at 302-365-8486.
Tips can also be shared through a private Facebook message to Delaware State Police or by contacting Delaware Crime Stoppers at 800-847-3333.
Delaware
Groups founded by billionaire Koch brothers sue Delaware over campaign finance law
‘Likely that potential donors will refuse to contribute’
Delaware enacted the law in question in 2012 in the wake of the U.S. Supreme Court’s ruling in Citizens United v. Federal Election Commission in 2010, which permitted corporations and other outside groups to spend unlimited money on elections.
The lawsuit targets the provision in the Delaware code that requires third-party advertisers who engage in so-called “electioneering communications” — which name a candidate but don’t explicitly say who to vote for or against — to file reports if they spend more than $500 in an election cycle.
The groups must first register as a political committee and list names and addresses of each officer, as well “a concise statement of the committee’s purposes or goals,” and the name, office sought and party affiliation of candidates they are supporting or opposing, “to the extent such information is known as of the date of filing.”
During the campaign season, the groups also need to file reports listing the name and mailing address of anyone contributing more than $100, regardless of whether the person earmarked their money for a Delaware race or even knows about the campaign ads in Delaware. The report must contain the total amount that every donor made during the relevant election cycle.
The law has a $1,200 minimum threshold for reporting donations by any contributor that is not an individual.
While the lawsuit centers on disclosing individual donors, the roughly 60 third-party advertisers now registered in Delaware report contributions from affiliated organizations rather than naming individual people, a WHYY News review of filings found.
For example, the American Civil Liberties Union of Delaware Action Fund listed $70,000 in donations from the American Civil Liberties Union, listing a New York address for the donors.
Another group, the National Resources Defense Council lists one donation — $100,000 in 2024 from the NRDC Action Votes Federal PAC in New York. During that race, the group advocated for unsuccessful Democratic gubernatorial candidate Collin O’Mara.
Regardless of whether third-party advertisers are naming individual people as donors, Americans for Prosperity argues in the lawsuit that the names of “thousands of donors” who have given its two groups more than $100 since 2022 would have to be disclosed.
Citing the law, the lawsuit said that failing to comply comes with a possible “penalty of perjury” and fines of $50 a day and perhaps referral to prosecutors for not filing the reports, which is a misdemeanor criminal offense.
Such disclosures would harm Americans for Prosperity, the lawsuit argues, because “the vast majority of donors require confidentiality as a condition of their giving.”
Unless the law changes or is overturned in court, the lawsuit claims that Americans for Prosperity could jeopardize its funding stream if it engages in third-party advertising in Delaware.
“It is likely that potential donors will refuse to contribute, and current donors will cease to contribute, because they are too fearful of the reprisal they will face if their names and addresses are disclosed,” the lawsuit said.
Connolly elaborated.
“This is a fundamental, foundational American principle that you should be able to give to causes without fear, whether you give $100 or $1,000 or more,’’ he said. “Everybody should be treated equally and protected equally to engage in the political process as they see fit and not not fear attacks on their families and their businesses.”
Marshall countered that third-party advertisers don’t deserve special privileges.
“The idea is that our elections are sacrosanct and that we ought to be able to at least see who is influencing them,” Marshall said. “The idea that we should have special rules when it’s a third party that’s really set up in practice to funnel extremely wealthy people’s resources in one or a few massive bundles of money, that we should treat that more gingerly than we treat the donation of an accountant who lives in Newark to their local state rep candidate, just feels outrageous.”
Delaware
Inaugural Delaware Public Health Advocacy Day – 47abc
Dover, Del. – Health officials, advocates and legislators met in front of Legislative Hall to raise awareness for public health issues being brought up at the state level on Wednesday for the first Delaware Public Health Advocacy Day.
The event, organized by Delaware HIV Consortium, focused on advancing public health policy to increase health equity as speakers advocated for more public health funding and support.
“Public health impacts all of the communities across our state. Public health is the first step of keeping people healthy,” Delaware HIV Consortium Executive Director Tyler Berl said. “And frankly, it’s the cheapest way to keep people healthy and thriving across our state.”
Peggy Geisler, CEO for Sussex County Health Coalition CEO and one of the speakers at the event, stressed the importance of funding for preventative healthcare. Especially, she said, in times of widespread disinformation.
“It’s so important right now is because population health, is under fire nationally,” she said. “I think what’s happening to undermine credible science and actual programming that keeps people like you, me and everyone else safe is a travesty. And I think we in our own state can do something about that.”
Brandywine Counseling and Community Services CEO and President Lynn Morrison was also a speaker and said it was important to make public health a top-of-mind issue with legislators at a time when the federal government has reduced funding after the COVID-19 pandemic.
“If there aren’t additional resources put towards public health, then organizations and programs will surely not be able to continue,” she said.
State officials at the event stressed that health care, while lifesaving, is just one of the many ways to keep communities safe and prosperous.
Secretary of the Delaware Department of Health and Social Services, Christen Linke Young, was also a speaker and said that access to healthy food, adequate housing, mental health services and community supports were just as essential to building healthy communities.
“That’s what public health is, and that’s what we’re celebrating today, the community institutions that work day in and day out to serve communities and build a spirit of public health,” Linke Young said.
Delaware
Mike Purzycki was enough for Wilmington. We’ll miss him | Opinion
4-minute read
Mike Purzycki, two-term Wilmington mayor, dies
Mike Purzycki, who remade the Wilmington Riverfront and was elected twice as the city’s mayor, has died.
Mike Purzycki died Tuesday, May 19 at 80. The public record of his life — the Riverfront, the mayoralty, the housing reforms, the man who turned an industrial wasteland into a regional destination — is real and earned. We read it Tuesday morning. We recognize the city Purzycki helped to build.
There is another piece of Purzycki’s life, less public and to us no less important, that the three of us are uniquely positioned to tell. I, Tony Allen, served as the founding chair of the Wilmington HOPE Commission, and Mike served as my co-chair throughout my tenure. With first Provey Powell and then Charles A. Madden as our executive director, and Wolfie Chambers as one of our most important volunteers and advisors — now one of the nation’s leading voices on second chances and gun violence prevention — we built something together that does not appear in the public chronology of Purzycki’s life. The moment of his passing is the right moment to name it.
We come to this tribute from three vantage points: a returning citizen turned national advocate, the executive director who ran the institution day to day, and the co-chair who sat with Purzycki at a round table, grappling with the difficult topics that carried their own advocates and opponents on every side — race, community, crime, brokenness, repair and whole cloth reform — we dealt with it all and then went about the business of trying to do something about it. The relationship the three of us had with Purzycki was an argument we kept choosing to have in the same room. He pushed us. We pushed him. Individually, we all held positions about structural injustice that sometimes made each of us bristle, one to another. Regardless of what side we landed, no one flinched. That is what made the work real, and what makes this tribute possible.
We want to honor Purzycki honestly. He was not a man so certain about Black people that he believed he knew what was best for us. He would have been the first to reject that framing on its facing, noting first that no group of people is a monolith, nor is one group superior in their judgement of another. It was the systems that created the circumstances, a point we all regularly rallied around. Purzycki was our ally — and on some days, our co-conspirator in a fight no one in his world was asking him to take up.
Wolfie Chambers remembers Mike Purzycki
I have been called “the Mayor of Wilmington” in some quarters, and I take no offense to it, but I want to be clear about the chronology. By the time the HOPE Commission and Mike Purzycki entered my life, I had already come home and decided who I was going to become. The Center for Structural Equity I founded at the University of Delaware in 2020. The federal legislation I helped shape. The book I wrote on violence in our city. The presidential pardon I received in January 2025. None of that was given to me. I built it, with the help of many — and Purzycki was one of those many, not the architect of it.
Purzycki never saw the man in front of him as broken. He assumed I was a partner. The first real conversation he and I had, he did not ask me about my time inside. He asked me what I thought the commission was getting wrong. I told him. He disagreed with me on several points, and we went around on it for the better part of an hour. That was the day I knew I could work with him.
We argued over the years about a great deal. About whether young men in our neighborhoods were primarily victims of a system or co-authors of the conditions they lived in — both, of course, but the weighting was a real fight. About how hard to push law enforcement, particularly later when he was mayor and accountability for police conduct sat on his desk. About what counted as success when a man came home. About who got the credit and who got the microphone. Purzycki did not always win those arguments. Neither did I. That is how I know he respected me. It was two men — one Black, one white — who could argue without feeling the need to break each other. As some young people used to say, “Mike was a real one,” even when we simply could not agree.
Charles A. Madden rememebrs Mike Purzycki
I ran the HOPE Commission for many years. For most of that time, I had two co-chairs at the top of the house — Tony Allen and Mike Purzycki — and the way that worked was the engine of everything we built. And while the HOPE Commission brought us together, it was Purzycki the man who has meant so much to my personal and professional development. We spent countless hours together creating countless memories and mutual lessons. What centers my relationship with Purzycki is the fact that he cared about me (the whole person). He fought for me both figuratively and literally AND helped shape the man, the father and professional I am becoming. During a car ride from his home in Maryland, I turned to Purzycki and called him a “painful” man. To be clear, my saying as much was truly a compliment. In fact, his “painful” way is the very reason I hold him in such high regard. The “painful” man expected and demanded excellence from me while modeling as much in our every interaction. I will miss Purzycki painful way of caring and showing up for me in ways few men have.
They did not always see the same problem when they looked at the same room. Allen came from the Urban League, from a public-policy lineage that ran through high profile elected officials, from stout academic grounding in Urban Affairs. PUrzycki came from real estate. He had built the Riverfront. He thought in terms of capital stacks, development timelines,and the leverage of public investment against private return. They had different vocabularies, and a lot of my job was translating between them — and then, when they had argued each other into a synthesis neither would have arrived at alone, helping the staff turn it into a program.
Purzycki pushed me on accountability — on whether we were measuring results, on whether the men we served were being asked enough of themselves, on whether we were too forgiving. I pushed him on context — on what it actually takes to come home to a city that has decided in advance you will fail, on the systems that produce the men we were serving, on the difference between mercy and infantilization. We did not always agree about where the line was. We agreed it had to be drawn together.
He was the rare leader who showed up when there was nothing for him to gain. He was the rare white civic leader who did not flinch when the conversation got harder than his comfort. He was wrong sometimes, and he could be told so to his face. That is a different gift than benevolence.
Mike’s work on reentry was never the work that won him votes. It was never the work that drew the press. It was the work he did anyway. That tells you what he was made of.
Tony Allen remembers Mike Purzycki
I co-chaired the Wilmington HOPE Commission with Mike Purzycki for many years. The hours we logged together at the head of that table are the foundation of what I want to say.
I came to that role from a particular vantage point, a student of W.E.B. Du Bois recognizing both privilege and responsibility in my Black community with Frederick Douglass type sensibilities, in effect that “power concedes nothing without demand.” That double inheritance made me right about nothing. But holding both worldviews in equal measure did teach me the texture of the long argument: that real civic work is not about who is correct in the moment, but about who is still in the room five, 10, 15, 25 years later, not still asking the harder question, but rather the hardest question and never giving up on the work.
Purzycki was such a man.
Our work together with Charles A. Madden, our board and at the prodding of known voices like Wolfie Chambers produced specific things. The expansion of resources into Southbridge — a family crisis therapist at the elementary school, a juvenile probation officer dedicated to the community, outreach workers — of the community — on the ground, and constant advocacy for what many thought of as the forgotten or worse yet, the unworthy. Perhaps most important was a home, the Achievement Center, built with an iconic American black fraternity, Kappa Alpha Psi, that gave our work visible, physical agency, that still shapes the function, face and work of the HOPE Commission today, still anchored in Wilmington but now spread to Dover under the leadership of state Sen. Darius Brown. All of it was instinct meeting investment, under intense pressure, with many competing views. Dare I say, “out of many, ONE!”
But the deeper thing — the thing I have come back to often, and will come back to more now — was something Reverend Lawrence Livingston named in a Delaware Today profile of Black leadership in our state a decade ago. He said that effective leadership in our community is about being “Black enough.” And he defined the term this way: “If you can understand the nature of oppression, whether you are white, Hispanic, or any other ethnicity, then you are Black enough.”
I have thought about that line in relation to Mike many times. He understood the nature of oppression — not as a thing he had experienced, but as a thing he had decided to know. He read it in the data. He heard it in the rooms. He sat with it in the lives of the men our Commission served. He let it change what he believed and how he led. He never claimed our experience as his. He never confused empathy with equivalence. I would not parse these words to ever say my dear friend Purzycki was “Black enough,” but he was enough and there when we all needed him most.
Legendary state Sen. Margaret Rose Henry once observed that the work of civil rights in our generation has shifted from voting rights and equal housing to economic justice, and that our leadership now extends to a broader and more economically driven community. Purzycki lived inside that shift. The Riverfront. The Achievement Center. The mayoralty. They were of a piece — investments in a city whose economic future and whose racial reckoning could no longer be separated.
That is the man I was proud to lead beside. That is the man whose absence I will feel for a long time.
Together, we remember Mike Purzykci
We are not writing a hagiography. Mike Purzycki’s record, like every public servant’s, is a mixed one, and the three of us hold our own critiques of pieces of it. We argued with him in his lifetime. We will continue those conversations now in his memory, because he would have wanted us to.
What we are saying is narrower and more durable than tribute. On the question of what a city owes the men it has sent away — and what those men owe themselves — Purzycki showed up for the long argument, did not flinch from the parts of it that were uncomfortable for him and built, with us, something that did not exist before.
In the by and by, achievements are fleeting, but the legacy of the Honorable Michael S. Purzycki endures.
To Bette, to Gage, to Adriane, to Mick, to his grandchildren — we share your grief. The man you loved at home was the same man with whom we went to battle, together, the same man who built a piece of this city that forever will stand. We loved him, too. We will miss him.
Darryl “Wolfie” Chambers is the founder of the Center for Structural Equity. Charles A. Madden is the former executive director of the Wilmington HOPE Commission. Tony Allen is the president of Delaware State University.
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