Bronx Court Stuns NYPD: Cop Faces Prison After Split-Second Call

Paul Riverbank, 2/7/2026NYPD sergeant convicted in Bronx manslaughter; verdict reignites debate on police accountability and tactics.

Judge Guy Mitchell presided from the bench, the decision his alone. Erik Duran, 38, the defendant—formerly Sergeant Duran—waited, face as unreadable as the marble desk before him. The charge: manslaughter, a word carrying enough weight to fill the room in ways the humid July air couldn’t. For the first time in a decade, an active NYPD officer stood convicted for a fatal incident in New York City—a legal milestone wrapped in human heartbreak.

August last year brought this all into motion. Security footage, played and replayed for the court, bore out the basic facts: Duprey, 30, sold drugs to an undercover officer in the Bronx. He fled, steering a scooter through the chaos of the afternoon, officers in pursuit but unable to close the gap. In a split second, Duran seized a red cooler—meant for drinks, now miscast as a weapon—and hurled it at Duprey. The impact sent Duprey tumbling out of control into a tree. He wasn’t wearing a helmet and never regained consciousness.

Prosecutors, led by Joseph Bianco, leaned into the recklessness. They insisted Duran was never in mortal danger—that the officers had other options, that acting on impulse wasn’t justified by threat. "A gross deviation from the standard of care," Bianco argued, watching Duprey’s widow press a tissue to her lips. In Duran’s own defense, the story narrowed to those scant seconds: “I thought he was going to kill my guys,” he said, voice low but clear. “I didn’t have time. All I could do was try to stop him changing direction.” In a city schooled in courtroom drama, the moment was understated but sharp.

Judge Mitchell stripped the case to essentials in his verdict. He saw no intent for assault—therefore, no conviction for that charge. Yet manslaughter, with its lower bar, remained: Duran's act, the judge declared, “will be treated as any other defendant.” Status—police sergeant or ordinary citizen—held no sway, at least on the judge’s ledger.

The immediate aftermath felt raw. Some of Duprey’s relatives wept openly when the judge finished reading the verdict; others sat in stunned silence, as if waiting for time to restart. “I was waiting for justice just like everybody,” said Orlyanis Velez, Duprey’s wife, voice trailing off amid a clutch of reporters. “When it comes, you almost can’t believe it’s real.”

Duran’s circle—family, union reps—offered little in the way of comment, but union president Vincent Vallelong didn’t mince words when he did speak: “Verdicts like this send a terrible message to hard-working cops,” he said, warning those in blue that even justified split-second decisions might end in courtrooms and convictions.

The NYPD hasn’t seen an on-duty fatality conviction since 2016; the circumstances then were starkly different—a shooting, not a desperate toss in a moment of pursuit. Yet the same underlying tensions remain: Officer safety, public safety, the fraught question of what constitutes reasonableness under the law. The verdict edges New York back into this debate, spotlighting police tactics and the blurry lines of momentary judgment.

Attorney General Letitia James, whose office prosecuted, acknowledged the limits of the verdict’s comfort: “Though it cannot return Eric to his loved ones, today’s decision gives justice to his memory,” she said. For Duprey’s family, civil litigation is now the next stop. “Accountability remains critical,” lawyer Jonathan Roberts told the press, underscoring the broader stakes: if justice stops at punishment, nothing changes.

Meanwhile, for Duran, dismissal from the NYPD is automatic. His sentencing looms—he faces up to fifteen years—and the uncertainty is not only his. The NYPD, amid shifting public scrutiny, must now reckon with how officers are trained for—and judged on—decisions that break in a heartbeat.

Outside, the crowd broke up uneasily—not quite closure, not quite relief. In the Bronx, memories linger, as does the knowledge that the story’s implications will outlast the headlines or the moment the verdict was read.

The slow grind of a late afternoon was unsettled in a Bronx courthouse this week—a room divided as much by physical aisle as by the widening gap in trust between cops and the communities they serve. On one side, a nervous contingent of uniformed NYPD officers, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the judge’s bench. Opposite, the family of Eric Duprey, shoulders hunched, bracing for a verdict many had quietly braced against for almost a year.Judge Guy Mitchell presided from the bench, the decision his alone. Erik Duran, 38, the defendant—formerly Sergeant Duran—waited, face as unreadable as the marble desk before him. The charge: manslaughter, a word carrying enough weight to fill the room in ways the humid July air couldn’t. For the first time in a decade, an active NYPD officer stood convicted for a fatal incident in New York City—a legal milestone wrapped in human heartbreak.August last year brought this all into motion. Security footage, played and replayed for the court, bore out the basic facts: Duprey, 30, sold drugs to an undercover officer in the Bronx. He fled, steering a scooter through the chaos of the afternoon, officers in pursuit but unable to close the gap. In a split second, Duran seized a red cooler—meant for drinks, now miscast as a weapon—and hurled it at Duprey. The impact sent Duprey tumbling out of control into a tree. He wasn’t wearing a helmet and never regained consciousness.Prosecutors, led by Joseph Bianco, leaned into the recklessness. They insisted Duran was never in mortal danger—that the officers had other options, that acting on impulse wasn’t justified by threat. "A gross deviation from the standard of care," Bianco argued, watching Duprey’s widow press a tissue to her lips. In Duran’s own defense, the story narrowed to those scant seconds: “I thought he was going to kill my guys,” he said, voice low but clear. “I didn’t have time. All I could do was try to stop him changing direction.” In a city schooled in courtroom drama, the moment was understated but sharp.Judge Mitchell stripped the case to essentials in his verdict. He saw no intent for assault—therefore, no conviction for that charge. Yet manslaughter, with its lower bar, remained: Duran's act, the judge declared, “will be treated as any other defendant.” Status—police sergeant or ordinary citizen—held no sway, at least on the judge’s ledger.The immediate aftermath felt raw. Some of Duprey’s relatives wept openly when the judge finished reading the verdict; others sat in stunned silence, as if waiting for time to restart. “I was waiting for justice just like everybody,” said Orlyanis Velez, Duprey’s wife, voice trailing off amid a clutch of reporters. “When it comes, you almost can’t believe it’s real.”Duran’s circle—family, union reps—offered little in the way of comment, but union president Vincent Vallelong didn’t mince words when he did speak: “Verdicts like this send a terrible message to hard-working cops,” he said, warning those in blue that even justified split-second decisions might end in courtrooms and convictions.The NYPD hasn’t seen an on-duty fatality conviction since 2016; the circumstances then were starkly different—a shooting, not a desperate toss in a moment of pursuit. Yet the same underlying tensions remain: Officer safety, public safety, the fraught question of what constitutes reasonableness under the law. The verdict edges New York back into this debate, spotlighting police tactics and the blurry lines of momentary judgment.Attorney General Letitia James, whose office prosecuted, acknowledged the limits of the verdict’s comfort: “Though it cannot return Eric to his loved ones, today’s decision gives justice to his memory,” she said. For Duprey’s family, civil litigation is now the next stop. “Accountability remains critical,” lawyer Jonathan Roberts told the press, underscoring the broader stakes: if justice stops at punishment, nothing changes.Meanwhile, for Duran, dismissal from the NYPD is automatic. His sentencing looms—he faces up to fifteen years—and the uncertainty is not only his. The NYPD, amid shifting public scrutiny, must now reckon with how officers are trained for—and judged on—decisions that break in a heartbeat.Outside, the crowd broke up uneasily—not quite closure, not quite relief. In the Bronx, memories linger, as does the knowledge that the story’s implications will outlast the headlines or the moment the verdict was read.