A few days ago, a high school sophomore in Frisco, Texas, was stabbed while walking his dog. Thankfully the wound wasn’t fatal, and doctors expect him to recover quickly. Unfortunately, the assailant ran away and remains at large.
On its own, this incident might seem like a minor local crime. But the context makes it impossible to dismiss. If the story sounds familiar, that’s because another Frisco high schooler, Austin Metcalf, was stabbed to death just months ago by fellow student Karmelo Anthony, an attack that ignited a national scandal.
The Austin Metcalf stabbing should have been a wake-up call. The latest stabbing is another warning.
Now it’s happened again. And once again, the details being withheld tell us almost as much as the details that make print. Local news outlets have carefully avoided naming or describing the attacker.
In today’s media environment, that omission most likely means the suspect is a young black man. This fits the larger pattern: When a violent criminal is white, his race leads every headline. When he belongs to a “protected” group, reporters bury the fact or omit it entirely.
Double standards breed division
Progressives claim this kind of censorship promotes civic harmony. In reality, it deepens mistrust and resentment. Citizens notice the double standard. They conclude that certain groups face no real accountability, while others are scrutinized and vilified. What grows out of that perception isn’t harmony — it’s more division, more resentment, and more dysfunction.
When ordinary people can’t get the facts, they’re left chasing phantoms — scanning middle schools for “radicalized” white kids because that’s what the media tells them to fear. Meanwhile, the far more common culprits keep wreaking havoc with little pushback.
Suburban illusions collapse
Suburbs like Frisco are uniquely vulnerable. For most of its history, Frisco was insulated from big-city crime. That isolation allowed residents to cultivate what writer Rob Henderson calls “luxury beliefs” — progressive slogans and ideals that sound noble when crime feels remote, but collapse the moment violence arrives on your own street.
Confronted with the reality of a young black male’s role in a stabbing at the park or a brawl in the school hallway, many residents simply prefer to deny or ignore the facts of the matter. They downplay what happened or cover it up so they can keep pretending their suburb remains as safe as it always was.
The problem is that denial doesn’t work. It seeps into institutions. Instead of suspending, expelling, or even jailing dangerous offenders, school districts now embrace “restorative justice.” That means therapy sessions, dialogue circles, and endless second chances. Predictably, violent students stay in class, disrupt learning, and in the worst cases attack their peers.
This weak approach produces young men who never face consequences. They grow up with low expectations, no skills, no self-control, and plenty of resentment. Eventually they end up roaming the streets, harassing strangers, and preying on the weak. Ordinary families, once told that all this would promote “civic harmony,” now cross the street or lock their doors when they see these young men coming.
Frisco isn’t Mayberry anymore
What’s happening in Frisco is happening across Texas. Suburbs once imagined as quiet havens have become crowded, diverse cities in their own right. Migration from blue states, foreign immigration, subsidized housing, and zoning changes have accelerated the transformation.
That doesn’t have to be a bad thing — but only if leaders face the new reality. Too many still cling to the illusion that Frisco is a charming, homogeneous refuge for upper-middle-class families. That era is gone. Frisco today has heavy traffic, a diverse population, and rising crime. Pretending otherwise is not an option.
The price of denial
If Frisco wants to survive and thrive, it needs leaders willing to tell the truth. That means dropping the “luxury beliefs” and embracing real accountability. It means removing violent kids from classrooms, enforcing laws against vagrancy and harassment, and raising the bar for behavior in public spaces.
Yes, some kids will end up in the so-called school-to-prison pipeline. Yes, some groups will show up in crime statistics more than others. But equal enforcement of the law is the only fair system. Lowering standards to avoid “disproportionality” is not compassion — it’s sabotage.
If the city refuses to act, it will suffer the same fate as America’s hollowed-out urban cores: neighbors who no longer trust one another, ethnic groups retreating into separate enclaves, and public spaces dominated by thugs who drive law-abiding families away. Once that spiral begins, families who can afford to leave will move — to Arkansas, Oklahoma, or anywhere else they can find safety and space.
Frisco still has time. It remains prosperous, attractive, and full of promise. But that won’t last if residents continue looking the other way. The Austin Metcalf stabbing should have been a wake-up call. The latest stabbing is another warning.
The longer this community clings to denial, the worse the problem will grow — and the harder it will be to fix.
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