WHEELS OF INJUSTICE
By Carol Strick
RECENTLY I HAD A PEEK INTO the manipulation of injustice- this business
of arrests, sentencing, incarceration, prison construction, manufacture
of razor wire, and employment for the control of the poor. I witnessed the
entombment of the victims who hold short straws in this lottery.
My friend Pete was arrested. He allegedly "battered" the manager
of the local Winn Dixie (Win! Dixie!), one of Florida's largest food chains.
Pete was sitting on the sidewalk in front of the store. The manager began
to sweep him, like garbage, into the gutter. Pete asked him to stop. The
manager continued. Pete left. The next day the same scenario occurred, only
this time the manager had the local "colin powell" snap a picture
of Pete resisting the manager's broom with a "stick" (Pete walks
with a cane-a "stick"-to help ease the pain from an injured leg.)
A local fascist from Jupiter Island was a "witness." Jupiter Island
is a barrier island off the coast of Hobe Sound, connected to the town by
a bridge. About 300 families populate the place, mostly descendants of the
robber barons (the product of 7+ generations of financial intermarriage).
In August Pete was at my daughter's birthday lunch. The following week he
wasn't around, so I asked people if anyone had seen him. One evening a girl
told me that Pete was in jail because of the incident. She happened to have
been in the store at the time and witnessed the manager's harassment and
enticement to provocation. She mentioned that the manager was maniacally
laughing, "Ha! ha! you'll go to jail, you'll go to jail!"
I got Pete's address and wrote to him. He sent me the name of the public
defender assigned to his case. I phoned the lawyer, who told me that he
had seen Pete and "had trouble understanding him." Pete is extremely
articulate. I wrote to the judge in charge of the case and asked him to
replace Pete's public defender because the current one had biased himself
by declaring Pete unintelligible. The second public defender seemed more
receptive that this case was about racism.
Pete sat in jail for five months without bail. The manger of the Winn Dixie
(Win! Dixie!), a former member of a street gang that taunted Pete in 1981
for his relationship with a white girl, had the cops, judges, and store
executives behind him. But after racism was mentioned, they weren't going
to shove Pete through the "just-us" without accountability.
Judgment day arrives. The judge/klansman decides Pete is free just so long
as he stays away from the store and remains on probation for five years.
Pete was out for a total of two weeks. When we didn't hear from him for
a while, I phoned his mother. "Pete's back in jail." An anonymous
caller had phoned 1-800-SEE-PETE and his probation officer had Pete arrested
for going near the store.
I was at a new level of rage. I wrote to the CEO of the chain to complain
about this racial incident. My letter arrived at a fortuitous time. Recently
a Black man in Delray Beach, 40 miles south, with $200 in his pocket, had
been killed by a suspicious manager and his thugs. The shopper was suffocated
and beaten to death for allegedly stealing a comb. A boycott ensued to protest
the incident. The district manager phoned. He said that he "liked Peter"
and hoped the matter could be settled. I wrote to the store manager to complain
about his stupid, dangerous act. By violating Pete, everyone was vulnerable
to unaccountable arrest. I wrote to Pete's probation officer and asked him
how he had the audacity to put Pete back inside from an anonymous tip. The
probation officer considered my anger to be "slander" and thought
I should be arrested. How dare I question him! He was used to acting without
accountability for his poor judgment and lack of ethics.
Pete's mother found a lawyer after numerous refusals from other members
of the bar. Pete had to be represented. This is America. This is a democracy.
Finally, 3 months later, his day in court arrived. I entered in time to
see him shuffle in slowly from the restriction of leg irons cuffed around
the ankles. There he stood, shackled, wearing prison orange, his slight
frame and tiny dreds appearing the epitome of humiliation and degradation.
The judge/klansman entered. All rise. He took his seat and began a roll
call of charges. ("Ay, mate, our ship is running smoothly.")
"Yes, madam, you can have an extension" (we will postpone your
date with the guillotine). This farce goes on for hours, people out on bail,
mostly white (the Blacks are shackled in a pen ), come up to face the judge,
listen to his decision, learn how much this will cost. Suddenly I am adding
the hundreds into thousands and it is transparent how clearly this is only
about money. Suddenly I heard Pete's case announced. He shuffles over to
the judge in a trance from fear. The judge/klansman questions him. "Has
anybody tried to force or intimidate you to speak against your will?"
"No, no, SIR!" (with the threat of another year in the slammer
if I don't play by your rules).
"So you have given up your right to appeal." This mockery continues.
The jargon of intimidation is cloaked in legalese.
Finally the decision, "What sayeth the State?"
"Charges withdrawn, your honor, as long as the defendant stays out
of the Win! Dixie! Mall." (Now we're talking about the whole mall,
not just the store.)
So Pete walks, but is banished to the Bantuland, and the next case begins.
I am not in a rush. I decide to listen. The courtroom is mostly cleared.
A translator frantically runs from the plaintiff, a Guatemalan girl, to
the defendant, a Guatemalan guy she has accused of robbing her. The judge/klansman
is leering at him suspiciously as though he is already guilty. Like Pete,
the man had been immediately jailed upon accusation and is wearing prison
orange. But wait! An extremely savvy public defender makes us realize that
the defendant could not possibly have committed this robbery. The judge,
always ready to pounce, suddenly turns his leer to the girl. Two victims
had fled their country from the ravages of United Fruit, looking for prosperity
in "El Norte." Instead they found themselves in a racist town
in the state of Florida.
At that point, I decided to leave. I could not bear anymore. And the judge-he
is not caged, but he is not free. The state has stolen his humanity.