Thursday, March 20, 2008

Because without a lawyer, a person untrained in the law has no idea what his rights are or how to assert them

"i'M WAITING" AS spoken by Sonic The Hedgehog



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THE ELECTRIC CHAIR AND THE CHAIN GANG:

CHOICES AND CHALLENGES FOR AMERICA'S FUTURE

Lecture presented by Stephen B. Bright, director of the Southern Center for Human Rights and J. Skelly Wright Fellow at Yale Law School, at the Notre Dame Law School on February 15, 1996, and published in Volume 71, Notre Dame Law Review, page 845 (1996).

Copyright (c) 1996 University of Notre Dame; Stephen B. Bright

The use of capital punishment in America today presents a number of fundamental moral issues about our society and our system of justice. It is fitting that we address those issues here at Notre Dame Law School, which has a well-deserved reputation for raising moral issues, for a deep commitment to justice, and for responding to human needs with compassion.

Our society and the legal professional are failing to meet the need for legal services of many of those most desperately in need of such services in cases involving the highest stake, life itself. There are, of course, urgent needs in other areas besides capital punishment. Those accused of crimes which do not carry the death penalty, the poor, people of color, homeless people, people with mental impairments, people who are HIV positive, people in prisons and jails and many others are without lawyers to represent them in cases which involve their freedom, their shelter, their survival.

Those needs will be greater when you graduate from law school than they are today. But there could be fewer jobs and less resources for those who respond. And, as you know, you will be saddled with enormous debts. This presents a challenge, but it should not deter you from responding. Indeed, my message to you is that you have no choice except to respond Ä the needs and the times demand it.

Let's examine the needs and how individuals and institutions may respond to them.

Children and the poor are going to have a tremendous need for your services. The states are increasingly passing so-called welfare reform measures and Congress and the President are about to follow suit with a measure that will "end welfare as we know it." The result of these "reforms" will be to put thousands of children on heating grates to live.

This message to "get a job or starve" comes even as America's most prosperous companies are "down-sizing" Ä laying off thousands of workers who dedicated their lives to their companies. You will be practicing law in a world in which your fellow human beings are increasingly looked upon by the corporate structure and the government as disposable, as Charles Reich eloquently describes in his book, Opposing the System.1 A person can work hard all her life and suddenly, one day, lose her job, her health insurance, her home and everything Ä not because she did anything wrong, but because the company does not need her any more. Many of those who lose their jobs in this manner have little prospect of finding employment elsewhere.

Many of those growing up in our country today have little chance of obtaining a job because we have not met the promise of providing a quality education for all of our children. Of course, a quality education is essential for a job in today's world. Silicon Valley did not appear by coincidence in California. The opportunities offered there are the sweet fruit harvested as a result of the country's best system of higher education. But now that system is being raided to pay for unnecessary prisons. California now spends more money on its prison system than on its university system.

As a result of the denial of education, opportunity and even hope for so many of our children and their parents, the choice for many by age sixteen is not the one you had Ä which college to attend, what career to pursue. It is a choice between trying to find a minimum wage job at a fast food restaurant or getting in on the material wealth of the American dream through the only business available, the selling of illegal drugs.

As was pointed out recently by Steven Duke and Richard St. John:

Those who would eviscerate welfare contend that welfare recipients need the threat of severe deprivation to motivate them to seek a job. But all the evidence proves that there are no jobs for most of the people now on welfare . . . . A recent study of fastfood workers found 14 applicants for every opening.

There is another glaring gap in the reasoning of those who want to rescind the war on poverty: They assume that the only alternative a welfare recipient has is legitimate work. This overlooks the omnipresent alternative of crime.2

But America's children can still count on their government to fulfill one promise. Both the federal and state governments are committed to spend up to $30,000 a year on every child in the United States. All that child must do to obtain this government support is to try to medicate his depression or despair with illegal drugs or commit some other crime. The state and federal governments are absolutely committed to having a maximum security prison cell for any child who commits a crime Ä especially if that child is a person of color.

Some of those accused of crimes will be entered in a lottery Ä a lottery rigged by race and poverty. Out of thousands eligible, about 250 will be condemned to be strapped down and shot, hung, gassed, electrocuted or injected with lethal drugs.

Other industrialized nations have abandoned the death penalty. Recently the Constitutional Court of South Africa unanimously found the death penalty to be cruel, unusual and degrading punishment under that country's constitution.3 But we continue to sentence people to death in the United States.

I was in a Georgia courtroom last fall defending an African American facing the death penalty for a crime committed against a white person. We were trying to persuade the judge to remove the Confederate battle flag from the courtroom Ä it is a part of the Georgia state flag. The flag was adopted in defiance of the Supreme Court's decision in Brown v. Board of Education4 that schools be integrated.5 We were also asking the court to bar the state from seeking the death penalty against my client because of racial discrimination in the infliction of the death penalty in Georgia.

As we were litigating those motions, I was struck by several thoughts. The Olympic games are coming to Georgia next year. Georgia, like South Africa, has a long history of apartheid, racial oppression and racial violence. Yet now South Africa has moved ahead, it has joined the rest of the civilized world in abandoning capital punishment. But Georgia is still flying the Confederate battle flag in its courtrooms and burning people up in its electric chair while others celebrate their deaths outside.

But the problems are not limited to Georgia. The sad fact is that, increasingly, our state and federal governments are offering the young not hope, opportunity and equality, but the threat of incarceration and execution. Last summer, President Clinton began running television advertisements proclaiming his support for the death penalty and tough sentencing laws. In 1994, he signed into law a crime bill providing for the death penalty for fifty federal crimes.

The federal death penalty was brought back in 1988. Since that time the Justice Department has approved fifty-four capital prosecutions. All but nine have been against people of color. During the Clinton administration, Attorney General Reno has approved twenty-seven capital prosecutions. Twenty were against African Americans. Yet despite this sorry record, even more capital crimes were adopted last year.

In addition to providing for more death, state and federal governments pass new measures each year to provide for more incarceration. Longer prison sentences, mandatory minimum sentences, unreasonable and inflexible sentencing guidelines and other legislation such as "three strikes and you're out" result in more people serving longer periods of time behind bars at enormous cost. The United States now imprisons more people than ever before Ä over 1.5 million in both prisons and jails Ä and has the highest incarceration rate of any country in the world.6 To keep up with the growth in prison population will require the construction of 1,725 new prison beds each week.

And legislatures are moving to make life even more unbearable for those crowded into prisons and jails. Alabama has brought back the chain gang.7 Its only purpose is degradation and humiliation of human beings for political points. A person cannot get much work done chained to another person. Alabama has also returned to the practice of having prisoners stand in the hot Alabama sun for ten hours a day breaking rocks with ten-pound sledge hammers.8 This activity serves no practical purpose Ä there is no need for the crushed rock Ä but apparently it serves political purposes.

Not long ago such barbarism would be seen as just another aberrational act by Alabama. Today, it starts a national trend. Arizona and Florida have already reinstated the chain gang and other states are contemplating it as well. And the Alabama legislature, continuing its role as the trend setter, is now considering a bill to return to caning as punishment for crime. Children even as young as thirteen are being prosecuted as adults. Not just in Alabama, where fourteen and fifteen year old children are serving sentences of life imprisonment without any possibility of parole, but all across the land.

As prisons and jails become even more overcrowded, conditions deteriorate. Yet legislation proposed in the United States Congress would restrict the ability of federal courts to provide relief for unconstitutional conditions in prisons.9 This legislation is based on irresponsible assertions by the National Association of Attorneys General and members of Congress that prisoner lawsuits are about nothing more important than soggy sandwiches or being deprived of watching football games on television or the use of electronic games.

Nothing is said about the unconscionable degradation and violence in America's prisons that was corrected only by order of federal courts in response to suits brought by prisoners. Judge Frank Johnson ordered the correction of barbaric conditions in Alabama's prisons twenty years ago. Judge Johnson found "horrendous" overcrowding with inmates sleeping on mattresses in the hallways and next to urinals; prisons were "overrun with roaches, flies, mosquitoes, and other vermin"; mentally disturbed inmates were "dispersed throughout the prison population without receiving treatment"; and robbery, rape, extortion, theft and assault were "everyday occurrences" among the general inmate population.10

Prisons in thirty-nine states and the District of Columbia have been put under some form of court supervision because of the failure of state officials to operate constitutional facilities. For example, a federal judge found that residents of the California State Prison at San Quentin were "regarded and treated as caged animals, not human beings."11 At a prison in Pendleton, Indiana, the federal court found that inmates were shackled spread- eagle to metal bed frames for up to two and a half days at a time and "frequently denied the right to use the toilet and had to lie in their own filth."12 At the Southern Center for Human Rights, our docket of suits on behalf of prisoners is not about melting ice cream, but about the most fundamental human rights of people, such as the right to safety and security, to basic medical and mental health care.

It is the threat of punishment and degradation, not the promise of hope and opportunity, that we hold out to children who have the misfortune to be born into poverty, the victims of brutal racism, those who have the misfortune to be born into dysfunctional families, those who are the victims of physical, sexual and psychological abuse, and those who have the misfortune to be born with a deficit in intellectual functioning or some other mental impairment.

One would think that if all we hold out to these children is a prison cell, the chain gang and the electric chair, at least we could provide a little process Ä fair procedure with a good lawyer Ä before we take away their lives or freedom and subject them to such suffering and degradation for the suffering and degradation they caused others. And one would think that, at the very least, we would make sure that racial prejudice, which already puts so many at such a disadvantage, would not influence the severity of their punishment. But both fair procedures and the access to courts through competent and experienced counsel are being taken away even from those with the most desperate needs of all, those facing the executioner. And the courts are completely indifferent to the prominent role that race plays in the criminal justice system.

Since 1977, Chief Justice Rehnquist has waged a relentless war on the once great Writ of Habeas Corpus, which the Supreme Court described over thirty years ago as "the common law world's 'freedom writ."'13 It gives a person the right to go into federal court and assert that he or she has been imprisoned in violation of the Constitution. It gives a life-tenure federal judge the power, where there has been a constitutional violation, not to let the defendant go free, but to require the state to provide a new and fair trial. The Supreme Court once said "there is no higher duty than to maintain it unimpaired."14

But the Supreme Court under the leadership of Justice Rehnquist Ä later Chief Justice Rehnquist Ä has placed all manner of technicalities in the way of vindication of violations of the Bill of Rights.15 And now Congress and the President are poised to finish off the Writ. The Anti-Terrorism Bill that has passed the Senate includes provisions which would limit even further the ability of federal judges to set aside an illegally obtained death sentence.16 It will impose time limits that would treat capital cases like small claims cases.

This legislation would leave enforcement of the Bill of Rights primarily to state court judges. This sounds reasonable, but it overlooks that state court judges in all but a handful of states must stand for election.17 Those judges are not independent. In high publicity, high profile cases, enforcing the law may cost them their jobs. In the present political climate, an elected judge who grants relief in a capital case signs his or her own political death warrant. It has happened in California. Three justices of the state supreme court were swept from office because of their votes in capital cases.18 It happened in Mississippi.19 It has happened in other places, but often it does not happen because judges pay more attention to the next election than to the law in making their rulings.

There was an election last year for the Texas Court of Criminal Appeals. Stephen W. Mansfield ran for a seat on the court on a three-plank platform: greater use of the death penalty, greater use of the harmless error doctrine, and fines for lawyers who file "frivolous appeals" in death penalty cases.20 Mansfield challenged an incumbent, a former prosecutor, who had served for twelve years on the court. Before the election, it was revealed that Mansfield had been a member of the Texas bar only a couple of years, that he had been fined for practicing law without a license in Florida, that he had almost no criminal law experience.21 Nevertheless, Mansfield won the election. The Texas Lawyer aptly described him after his election as an "unqualified success."22

Of course the most fundamental element of a fair process is the right to counsel. Because without a lawyer, a person untrained in the law has no idea what his rights are or how to assert them. I am sure that many of you were inspired to go to law school, as I was, by Anthony Lewis' marvelous book, Gideon's Trumpet. It is the story of Clarence Earl Gideon who was convicted in Florida and then filed his own handwritten petition with the United States Supreme Court saying it just was not fair that he did not have a lawyer at his trial. This ultimately led to the case of Gideon v. Wainwright,23 which held that the poor person accused of a felony is entitled to a lawyer. Anthony Lewis observed after the decision:

It will be an enormous task to bring to life the dream of Gideon v. Wainwright Ä the dream of a vast, diverse country in which every person charged with a crime will be capably defended, no matter what his economic circumstances, and in which the lawyer representing him will do so proudly, without resentment at an unfair burden, sure of the support needed to make an adequate defense.24

Over thirty years after Gideon was decided, this dream has not been realized. There is no public defender office in many jurisdictions; in some jurisdictions, the indigent defense work is assigned to the lowest bidder.25 It was recently discovered that in Putnam County, Georgia, the local sheriff appointed lawyers to the cases of poor defendants and refused to appoint lawyers who would not agree to the plea dispositions proposed by the sheriff.26

Congress cut off all funding in the fall of 1995 for a very modest program to provide some measure of justice to those facing the death penalty Ä the post-conviction defender organizations or resource centers that had existed in twenty states. The resource centers, created in 1987, were a relatively small program for the size of the problem. All together they had about 200 lawyers to deal with the post-conviction representation of over 3,000 people condemned to death. But the young lawyers who were at the resource centers during their eight years of existence proved what a difference you can make if you tackle a problem, work hard at it, build an expertise and are committed to justice.

Some of the resource center attorneys were right out of law school. They were not paid very much by the prevailing standards of the legal profession. But after two or three years, those young lawyers had mastered the complex areas of criminal law, the sub-specialty of capital punishment law, and the procedural maze of state and federal post-conviction law. Besides building their own expertise and applying it, they recruited lawyers from firms to provide pro bono representation. Many lawyers responded to the call. And they, working with the resource center lawyers, provided the highest quality of representation.

And they made a difference. Walter McMillian, who spent six years on Alabama's death row, is a free man today because the Alabama Resource Center proved that he was innocent of the murder for which he was condemned to die.27 Lloyd Schlup is alive today because the resource center in Missouri established his innocence.28 Curtis Lee Kyles is alive today because the resource center in Louisiana marshalled evidence of his innocence.29

In addition, these young lawyers, and the pro bono attorneys with whom they worked, exposed constitutional violations in other cases Ä violations such as failure to disclose exculpatory evidence, racial discrimination, and prosecutorial misconduct. These are not technicalities. These are constitutional violations that go to the very integrity and reliability of the system.

And because these lawyers and these programs made a difference, they came under attack by the National Association of Attorneys General, led by the new Attorney General of South Carolina who ran on a promise to replace the state's electric chair with an electric sofa so that more people could be executed at one time.30 Apparently the attorneys general consider it a bad reflection on our criminal justice system that innocent people are being sentenced to death. The House and the Senate responded by cutting off all funding last fall.

Those who depend upon government funding must recognize that a reality of our times is that if they are effective in helping the poor or people of color, there is a very substantial risk that the government will take away or reduce the funding or, as with the federal Legal Services Corporation, which makes legal assistance available to the poor in civil cases, interfere with their ability to help their clients by placing restrictions on their practices. Of course, that has always been the case in many states; the only programs that received funding were the ones that were completely ineffective. But at least the federal government could be counted on for some programs and the federal courts for some measure of justice that could not be obtained in the state courts. But now there is no commitment to access to the courts or to fairness on the part of our national leadership in either party.

The result is that many who most need legal assistance are without it. Many of the 3,000 men, women and children on death rows throughout the country are without counsel. Many of the lawyers from the capital resource centers who would have provided representation have gone to other jobs in other states. This leaves two choices. One is the states can execute the condemned without providing counsel for the post-conviction stages of review. The Supreme Court has held there is no right to counsel in state post-conviction proceedings.31 The other choice is to assign a lawyer who knows nothing about post- conviction practice and pay the lawyer a token amount for providing the appearance of some process. Alabama compensates lawyers $600 for handling post-conviction representation. An attorney who devotes the necessary time will be earning less than ten cents an hour. But the fees in Alabama are better than in Georgia, Mississippi and some other states. They pay nothing.

If the states do provide counsel, we can expect to see the same quality of representation during post-conviction that we see at trial. And the quality of representation at trial in capital cases has been a disgrace to the legal profession.32 For example, judges in Houston, Texas have often appointed to defend capital and other criminal cases a lawyer who occasionally falls asleep during trial.33 When a defendant in a capital case there once complained about his lawyer sleeping, the judge responded that the Constitution guarantees the accused a lawyer, but it does not guarantee that the lawyer must be awake.34 The trial of a woman facing the death penalty in Alabama had to be suspended for a day because the lawyer appointed to defend her was too drunk to go forward.35 The judge sent him to jail for a day to dry out and then produced both the client and lawyer from jail and resumed the trial. She was sentenced to death.

Last month, I handled a post-conviction proceeding in a capital case in Georgia in which the court-appointed lawyers did not make one objection during the entire trial, which lasted only one and a half days.36 Only one motion was filed prior to trial. One of the attorneys appointed to defend the accused had never heard of two important Supreme Court decisions in Georgia capital cases, Furman v. Georgia37 and Gregg v. Georgia,38 which provide the structure for much of the Eighth Amendment law governing capital trials. Another lawyer who has handled a number of criminal and capital cases in Georgia was asked to name all of the criminal law decisions of which he was aware. He could answer only Miranda and Dred Scott.39

The Alabama Supreme Court affirmed a conviction and death sentence in a case after receiving a brief from the lawyer that was only one page long.40 The lawyer did not show up for oral argument. One might have expected the Alabama Supreme Court Ä or the courts in the other cases I have described Ä to call a halt to proceedings where the lawyering was so bad and appoint new counsel, not only to protect the rights of the accused, but also so that the court could do its job. Do these courts care at all about justice? How can a court decide a capital case based on a one-page brief and without oral argument? But the Alabama Supreme Court affirmed without ever having adequate briefing or any argument. The client was eventually executed.

Poor people do not choose their lawyers. They are assigned lawyers by state court judges, many of whom are elected and are more concerned about the next election than the Bill of Rights. We must ask, is it morally right to assign a poor person a lawyer who does not know the law, who does not care enough to investigate, who is incapable of properly handling such a serious case, and then penalize the poor person for errors made by the lawyer?

Another great moral and legal issue that courts continue to ignore is the role that racial prejudice plays in deciding who dies. Edward Horsley was executed in Alabama's electric chair on February 16, 1996. He was the eleventh African American put to death by Alabama of the fourteen that have been executed since the Supreme Court allowed resumption of capital punishment in 1976. He and his codefendant were sentenced to death by all- white juries selected in Monroeville, Alabama.

Two African American men sentenced to death by an all-white jury in Utah were executed even though jurors discovered during a lunch recess a note which contained the words "Hang the Nigger's" [sic] and a drawing of a figure hanging on a gallows.41 No court, state or federal, even had a hearing on such questions as who wrote the note, what influence it had on the jurors, and how widely it was discussed by the jurors. William Henry Hance was executed in Georgia without any court holding a hearing on the use of racial slurs by jurors who decided his fate.42 The racial disparities in the infliction of the death penalty are undeniable,43 yet courts refuse even to hold hearings on such ugly racial incidents as I have described here.

But even if our system could provide the person facing the death penalty with a fair and impartial judge, a responsible prosecutor who was beyond political influences, a capable defense lawyer, and a jury which represented a fair cross-section of the community, it would not eliminate the discrimination and unfairness in the infliction of the death penalty. No procedure employed by the court during jury selection or trial can eliminate the centuries of racial prejudice and discrimination in our history. Beyond that, the task of deciding who should live and who should die is simply too enormous for our court system. And our courts do not function best when caught up in the politics and passions of the moment, which is almost always the case when a capital trial is taking place.

I am reasonably confident that this sad situation is only going to get worse because no one in a leadership position speaks out against it. That was not always the case. Over thirty years ago, the Attorney General of the United States, Robert F. Kennedy, observed, "the poor person accused of a crime has no lobby." And he did something about it. He, the Attorney General of the United States, became a lobby for the poor person. He found responsible leaders on Capitol Hill who responded to his call. Together they brought about passage of the Criminal Justice Act to give lawyers to poor people accused of crimes in the federal courts. One opportunity that will be open to you upon graduation is to work at one of the federal defender offices all across the country now in existence thanks to the leadership of Attorney General Kennedy. Attorney General Kennedy supported the Criminal Justice Act not because he was soft on crime Ä Robert Kennedy was a tough prosecutor Ä but because he believed in fairness. It was as simple as that.

But after the election of 1994, as the state attorneys general and politicians in both parties moved to take away funding for the resource centers Ä to remove the small fig leaf of fairness that did not begin to cover the injustices and inequities in the use of the death penalty Ä not a word of protest was heard from the White House or the Department of Justice.

Those of us who remember Robert Kennedy hoped that someone might at least say: "Wait, if we are going to have the death penalty, if we are going to kill our own people Ä even our children Ä at least we must give lawyers to those accused of crimes." And not just a stable of plug horses that would not be accepted by a decent glue factory, but real lawyers who know what they are doing. It is a matter of fairness. We hoped that someone might say: "Wait, we cannot gut the great Writ of Habeas Corpus. Life and liberty are too precious. Even in this material world, life and liberty should have the protection of the federal courts." Our country could have benefitted from a lesson in fairness and due process from the President or the Attorney General or some of the leaders in Congress.

Those are some of the challenges. What can we do about them?

It can be difficult to find a public interest job Ä not as hard as some think, but it is certainly more difficult than finding a job with a law firm. As I said earlier, there are no public defender offices in many jurisdictions where those accused of crimes have the greatest need for competent legal counsel. And it is getting harder. Many of the capital resource centers have closed. The civil legal services programs are also under attack for providing too much justice. They are being cut back and restrictions placed on their work. And of course you have those law school debts.

Law schools and human rights organizations must come to the rescue. The legal profession must respond to the challenge. And you as individuals must respond to the problems I have described.

A number of law schools have responded. The University of Texas Law School now has a capital punishment clinic which provides an outstanding experience for students and desperately needed help for lawyers defending capital cases in that state. The Capital Clearinghouse at the Washington and Lee College of Law has helped improve the quality of representation in Virginia. Loan forgiveness programs are making it possible for law school graduates to take jobs which pay very little but allow them to respond to desperate needs. Yale and New York University are among the leaders in providing full loan forgiveness for students who go into public interest careers. Law students at many institutions have created public interest foundations, through which those who have well paying jobs make contributions to enable other graduates to accept public interest jobs and pay their loans.

Our program, the Southern Center for Human Rights, has benefitted tremendously in the last six years because each year we have had a Skadden Fellow, a new law graduate whose salary and benefits were paid for by the fellowship foundation of the law firm of Skadden, Arps, Slate, Meagher & Flom. Now in its seventh year, the Skadden program provides two-year fellowships for twenty-five law graduates. Thanks to that program, we have had three outstanding lawyers who would not have been with us otherwise. There are clients who are alive today who would be dead were it not for our Skadden Fellows. It is time for other firms to follow Skadden's lead.

Some people concerned about the death penalty created last year the Harry A. Blackmun Fellowship at our office. That fellowship is making it possible for us to put another recent law graduate in the field to respond to these desperate needs.

Judy Clarke, the federal public defender in Spokane, Washington, recently donated her fees for representing Susan Smith in South Carolina, $83,000, to the South Carolina Post-Conviction Defender Organization so it could establish a fellowship to provide representation for condemned inmates.44 This contribution was made by a public defender who is providing representation in the courts to poor people every day. Where is the rest of the legal profession? Lawyers have a monopoly on access to justice; they have a duty to see that it is not only available to those who can pay.

But what is also needed is the response of individuals who are willing to go where the needs are. The legal services offices that survive, the public defender offices that exist, and the various public interest law projects, like my office, are not going to offer you jobs a year before you graduate like the law firms do. The reason is we do not know if we will be cut back thirty percent or eliminated completely.

But those offices will need you at some point. Last year, two of my third-year students at Yale Law School were discouraged in January because they could not find public defender jobs. But by May they were calling for help in deciding between the three public defender offices that had made offers. Another recent graduate worked for a criminal defense lawyer in Atlanta while he waited for his bar results and an opening at a public defender office. He passed the bar and will start practicing with the public defender office in Atlanta next month.

I also urge you to explore creating your own programs, your own non-profit public interest law projects Ä not offices where lawyers get rich, but places where people get justice. But to do that, you must settle for less in material rewards than what other lawyers are receiving for their work.

It is easy to lose perspective. Remember that it is no sacrifice to receive the same income as that received by teachers, farmers, workers on the assembly line and other good, decent working men and women who raise families and contribute to their communities. To the contrary, it is a great privilege to devote one's life to things that are important and about which you care passionately.

You who will someday graduate from law school have the opportunity to become what Martin Luther King, Jr., in one of his many great sermons, called "drum majors for justice." Dr. King described the drum major for justice as one who speaks the truth Ä no matter how unwelcome it may be and no matter how uncomfortable it may make the listener Ä and as one who gives his or her life to serving others: to feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, and Ä particularly important for lawyers Ä to visiting those who are in prison, and to loving and serving humanity.45 He described his goal as a drum major for justice: "I just want to be there in love and justice and in truth and in commitment to others, so that we can make of this old world a new world."46

Follow the example of a young lawyer who graduated from Howard Law School, opened a practice in Baltimore and handled civil rights cases and became a great drum major for justice Ä Thurgood Marshall. Follow the example of a nun who ministered to the poor in the projects of New Orleans and on death row at Angola Ä Sister Helen Prejean.47

I offer my office as an example of what you can do only because it is the one I know something about and we have had some experience in surviving in hard times without much money. We have never received any government money. We must spread very thinly what little money we have to provide justice for those most in need of it. And that requires living a simple life, not letting a lot of material things clutter our existence.

We pay everyone the same, whether secretary, senior lawyer, or junior lawyer. Our annual salaries have been as low as $8,500. Now, everyone makes $23,000. You can live on this amount. I have lived on such a salary for the last thirteen years. But, of course, so have many other people in our society who work at jobs that are not nearly so interesting and fulfilling as what we do.

A law firm may pay one partner $600,000 or even more. At the Southern Center for Human Rights, that is the entire operating budget for a year for nine lawyers, three investigators, one paralegal, three administrative people and a number of law students. With that we provide representation in fifty capital cases and twenty-four cases challenging prison and jail conditions.

There are other possibilities. The new technology of today enables us to practice law from our homes with a computer, a modem, a printer, a telephone and a fax machine. It is possible to maintain very low overhead so you can charge reasonable fees for services or even barter, as William Kunstler often did with his neighbors.

Consider practicing law not in Washington, New York or the Bay Area, but in communities where there has never been a lawyer who would question the status quo, who would give African Americans the same representation as white people, who would give the poor the same representation as the rich. You can change that. Those communities are not hard to find. Get a map of any state in the Union. It will be full of them.

We live in a society where it is possible to isolate ourselves from the poverty, the racism, the injustices that affect the lives of so many people. The culture of becoming a lawyer is one in which there is almost overwhelming temptation to take the job that pays the most money to pay those debts; but then it is so easy to fall into a costly culture of BMWs, big houses, and summer homes. There is so much money available and so many good uses we can think of for it, that it is easy to give in to the twin evils of complacency and complicity.

I urge you to commit yourselves today not to do that. As Elie Wiesel said in accepting the Nobel Peace Prize, "Our lives no longer belong to us alone; they belong to all those who need us desperately."48 I have not had enough time to describe all the desperate needs, only some of what needs to be done to work toward finally realizing the promise of Clarence Earl Gideon's case.

Your time, your talents and your commitment are urgently needed. Let me give you an example of how much you are needed. Cornelius Singleton, a mentally retarded African American youth on death row in Alabama, went eight years without seeing the lawyer assigned to represent him in post-conviction proceedings. Can you imagine what it must be like to be on death row for eight years and not see a lawyer? Not to know whether you are going to be executed the next day, the next week, the next year? To have no idea what is even happening on your case? Do you see what a difference you could make if you had been Cornelius Singleton's lawyer? Just by going to see him, by counseling him, you would have provided a valuable service.

We cannot solve all the problems, but we can lend a helping hand and our professional skills to those who most need us. Like those who helped slaves escape to freedom as part of the underground railroad before the Civil War, we can help people reach safe passage, one at a time, from the injustices which threaten to destroy them.

And what a difference you can make to those individuals whom you help. Last summer, one of my clients, Tony Amadeo, who had been condemned to die by Georgia when he was only eighteen years old, but whose death sentence was set aside due to racial discrimination,49 graduated summa cum laude from Mercer University. Do not let anyone tell you that you cannot make a difference as a lawyer.

And we can bear witness to the injustices we see until we shake our fellow citizens out of the indifference which we see about us.

I leave you with the challenge issued by Justice Thurgood Marshall, six months before he died, in accepting the Liberty Bell Award in Philadelphia. Justice Marshall was frail. He was in a wheelchair. But by the end of his remarks, it was observed that "his voice was as booming as [it had been] in those magnificent times when he argued before the Supreme Court."50 Justice Marshall said:

I wish I could say that racism and prejudice are only distant memories . . . and that liberty and equality were just around the bend. I wish I could say that America has come to appreciate diversity and to see and accept similarity. But as I look around, I see not a nation of unity but of division Ä Afro and white, indigenous and immigrant, rich and poor, educated and illiterate. . . .

Look around. Can't you see the tensions in Watts? Can't you feel the fear in Scarsdale? Can't you sense the alienation in Simi Valley? The despair in the South Bronx? The rage in Brooklyn?

We cannot play ostrich. Democracy cannot flourish among fear. Liberty cannot bloom among hate. Justice cannot take root amid rage. We must go against the prevailing wind. We must dissent from the indifference. We must dissent from the apathy. . . . We must dissent from a government that has left its young without jobs, education or hope. We must dissent from the poverty of vision and an absence of leadership. We must dissent because America can do better, because America has no choice but to do better. Take a chance, won't you? Knock down the fences that divide. Tear apart the walls that imprison. Reach out; freedom lies just on the other side.51

That's the challenge. To continue the work which Justice Marshall so nobly advanced in his great career at the bar. Now it's your turn.

I hope to see you in the courts.

. Charles Reich, Opposing the System (1995).

. Steven B. Duke & Richard St. John, Less Welfare: More Crime, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, Jan. 14, 1996, at B1.

. The State v. Makwanyane, Constl. Ct. of South Africa, June 6, 1995, reprinted in 16 Hum. Rts. L.J. 154 (1995).

. 347 U.S. 483 (1954) (holding that racial segregation in the public schools violates the Equal Protection Clause); see also Brown v. Board of Educ., 349 U.S. 294, 301 (1955) (requiring that desegregation of the public schools proceed "with all deliberate speed").

. Coleman v. Miller, 885 F. Supp. 1561, 1569 (N.D. Ga. 1995) (finding that the flag was adopted "as a statement of defiance against federal desegregation mandates and an expression of anti-black feelings").

. 1,725 New Prisons Beds a Week; Biggest 1-Year Spurt in Inmate Population, Atlanta Const., Dec. 4, 1995, at 1A (reporting a Department of Justice announcement that there are 1.1 million inmates in prison and another 484,000 in jails, giving the United States an incarceration rate of 565 per 100,000, higher than even Russia, which had been the world leader).

. Rick Bragg, Chain Gangs to Return to Roads of Alabama, N.Y. Times, Mar. 26, 1995, at 16; Brent Staples, The Chain Gang Show, N.Y. Times Mag., Sept. 17, 1995, at 62.

. Alabama to Make Prisoners Break Rocks, N.Y. Times, July 29, 1995, at 5.

. Stop Turning Out Prisoners Act, H.R. 667, 104 Cong., 1st Sess. (1995). After some modification, the restrictions were adopted as the Prison Litigation Reform Act by the Congress as a rider to the Omnibus Rescission and Appropriations Act of 1996, Pub. L. 104-134, and signed into law by President Clinton on April 26, 1996.

. Pugh v. Locke, 406 F. Supp. 318, 322-27 (M.D. Ala. 1976), aff'd as modified, 559 F.2d 283 (5th Cir. 1977), rev'd in part on other grounds, 438 U.S. 781 (1978) (per curiam).

. Toussaint v. McCarthy, 597 F. Supp. 1388, 1400 (N.D. Cal. 1984), aff'd in relevant part, 801 F.2d 1080 (9th Cir. 1986), cert. denied, 481 U.S. 1069 (1987).

. French v. Owens, 777 F.2d 1250, 1253 (7th Cir. 1985), cert. denied, 479 U.S. 817 (1986). These are, of course, only a few of the many examples of unconscionable constitutional violations that could be found in America's prisons before they were corrected by federal lawsuits brought on behalf of prisoners. For an excellent and sobering account of conditions in the Mississippi State Pentitentiary over the decades before federal court intervention, see David M. Oshinski, "Worse than Slavery": Parchman Farm and the Ordeal of Jim Crow Justice (1996); see also Nils Christie, Crime Control as Industry: Toward GULAGS, Western Style? (1993) (a description of failures of the American prison system by an eminent Norwegian criminologist); Susan P. Sturm, The Legacy and Future of Corrections Litigation, 142 U. Pa. L. Rev. 639 (1993) (describing reforms accomplished through corrections litigation).

. Smith v. Bennett, 365 U.S. 708, 712 (1961).

. Id. at 713 (quoting Bowen v. Johnson, 306 U.S. 19, 26 (1939)).

. The Court has limited the availability of the Writ to vindicate constitutional rights by adopting strict rules of procedural default, see, e.g., Smith v. Murray, 477 U.S. 527, 533-36 (1986); Engle v. Isaacs, 456 U.S. 107, 130-34 (1982); Wainwright v. Sykes, 433 U.S. 72, 88-91 (1977); Timothy J. Foley, The New Arbitrariness: Procedural Default of Federal Habeas Claims in Capital Cases, 23 Loy. L.A. L. Rev. 193 (1989); by excluding most Fourth Amendment claims from habeas corpus review, Stone v. Powell, 428 U.S. 465 (1976); by requiring deference to fact finding by state court judges, see, e.g., Patton v. Yount, 467 U.S. 1025 (1984); Sumner v. Mata, 439 U.S. 539 (1981), after remand, 455 U.S. 591 (1982), after second remand, 464 U.S. 957 (1983); by making it more difficult for a petitioner to obtain an evidentiary hearing to prove a constitutional violation, Keeney v. Tamayo- Reyes, 504 U.S. 1 (1992); by adopting an extremely restrictive doctrine regarding the retroactivity of constitutional law, Teague v. Lane, 489 U.S. 288 (1989); James S. Liebman, More than "Slightly Retro:" The Rehnquist Court's Rout of Habeas Corpus Jurisdiction in Teague v. Lane, 18 N.Y.U. Rev. L. & Soc. Change 537 (1991); by reducing the harmless error standard for constitutional violations recognized in federal habeas review, Brecht v. Abrahamson, 507 U.S. 619 (1993); and by restricting when a constitutional violation may be raised in a second habeas petition, McCleskey v. Zant, 499 U.S. 467 (1991).

. The Antiterrorism and Effective Death Penalty Act of 1996, signed into law by President Clinton on April 24, 1996, Pub. L. 104-132, requires deference by federal courts to decisions of state courts unless the decision is "contrary to, or involved an unreasonable application of, clearly established Federal law," id. s 104(3); establishes a statute of limitation for the filing of habeas corpus petitions, id. s 101; further restricts when a federal court may conduct an evidentiary hearing, id. 104(4); and adds new barriers to hearing a successive habeas corpus petition, id. s 105; see David Cole, Destruction of the Habeas Safety Net, Legal Times, June 19, 1995, at 30.

. Stephen B. Bright & Patrick J. Keenan, Judges and the Politics of Death: Deciding Between the Bill of Rights and the Next Election in Capital Cases, 75 B.U. L. Rev. 759, 779 n.89 (1995) (in 32 of the 38 states that have the death penalty, state court judges must stand for periodic election or retention).

. Governor George Deukmejian announced his opposition to Chief Justice Rose Bird because of her votes in capital cases and warned two other justices he would oppose them unless the death penalty was upheld. Leo C. Wolinsky, Support for Two Justices Tied to Death Penalty Votes, Governor Says, L.A. Times, Mar. 14, 1986, at 3; Steve Wiegand, Governor's Warning to 2 Justices, S.F. Chron., Mar. 14, 1986, at 1. He eventually campaigned for the removal of all three justices and the voters responded by voting all three from their positions. Frank Clifford, Voters Repudiate 3 of Court's Liberal Justices, L.A. Times, Nov. 5, 1986, pt. 1, at 1 (describing results of election and commercials in the last month of the campaign which insisted "that all three justices needed to lose if the death penalty is to be enforced").

. David W. Case, In Search of an Independent Judiciary: Alternatives to Judicial Elections in Mississippi, 13 Miss. C. L. Rev. 1, 15-20 (1992) (describing how Justice James Robertson was defeated by a "law and order candidate" who had the support of the Mississippi Prosecutor's Association). Robertson was the second justice to be voted off the Mississippi Supreme Court in two years for being "soft on crime." Andy Kanengler, McRae Overwhelms Justice Joel Blass, Clarion-Ledger (Jackson, Miss.), June 6, 1990, at 4A; Tammie Cessna Langford, McRae Unseats Blass, Sun Herald (Biloxi, Miss.), June 3, 1990, at A1.

. Janet Elliott & Richard Connelly, Mansfield: The Stealth Candidate; His Past Isn't What it Seems, Tex. Law., Oct. 3, 1994, at 1, 32.

. Id.; John Williams, Election '94: GOP Gains Majority in State Supreme Court, Houston Chron., Nov. 10, 1994, at A29.

. Jane Elliott, Unqualified Success: Mansfield's Mandate; Vote Makes Case for Merit Selection, Tex. Law., Nov. 14, 1994, at 1.

. 372 U.S. 335 (1963).

. Anthony Lewis, Gideon's Trumpet 205 (1964).

. For a description of the lack of indigent defense systems and the state of indigent defense, see Stephen B. Bright, Counsel for the Poor: The Death Sentence Not for the Worst Crime but for the Worst Lawyer, 103 Yale L.J. 1835, 1849-55 (1994).

. Judy Bailey, Does Sheriff Run Putnam's Indigent Defense?, Fulton County Daily Rep., Nov. 10, 1995, at 1.

. Peter Applebome, Black Man Freed After Years on Death Row in Alabama, N.Y. Times, Mar. 3, 1993, at A1.

. See Schlup v. Delo, 115 S. Ct. 851 (1995).

. Kyles v. Whitley, 115 S. Ct. 1555 (1995) (finding a violation of due process by the prosecution due to failure to turn over exculpatory evidence).

. Marcia Coyle, Republicans Take Aim at Death Row Lawyers, Nat'l L.J., Sept. 11, 1995, at A1, A25 (describing the effort of South Carolina's Attorney General and other members of the National Association of Attorneys General to eliminate funding for the post-conviction defender organizations even though the organizations had established the innocence of at least four men condemned to die); David Cole, Too Expensive or Too Effective? The Real Reason the GOP Wants to Cut Capital-Representation Centers, Fulton County Daily Rep., Sept. 8, 1995, at 6 (pointing out that eliminating funding for the capital representation centers would increase the cost of providing representation, but decrease the quality).

. Murray v. Giarratano, 492 U.S. 1 (1989).

. For a more comprehensive discussion of the problems of deficient representation in capital cases and the reasons for it, see Bright, supra note 25.

. Paul M. Barrett, Lawyer's Fast Work on Death Cases Raises Doubts About System, Wall St. J., Sept. 7, 1994, at 1 (describing Houston lawyer Joe Frank Canon, who is known for hurrying through capital trials like "greased lightening," occasionally falls asleep, and has had 10 clients sentenced to death); Ex Parte Burdine, 901 S.W.2d 456, 457 (Tex. Crim. App. 1995) (Maloney, J., dissenting) (noting testimony of jurors and court clerk that defense attorney slept during trial).

. John Makeig, Asleep on the Job; Slaying Trial Boring, Lawyer Said, Houston Chron., Aug. 14, 1992, at A35.

. Record at 846-49, Haney v. State, 603 So. 2d 368 (Ala. Crim. App. 1991), aff'd, 603 So. 2d 412 (Ala. 1992), cert. denied, 113 S. Ct. 1297 (1993).

. Judy Bailey, A Poor Example of Indigent Defense, Fulton County Daily Rep., Jan. 16, 1996, at 1 (describing hearing in Fugate v. Thomas, Super. Ct. of Butts Co., Ga., No. 94-V-195 (Jan. 10-11, 1996)).

. Furman v. Georgia, 408 U.S. 238 (1972) (striking down Georgia's death penalty statute).

. Gregg v. Georgia, 428 U.S. 153 (1976) (upholding the death penalty statue enacted by the Georgia legislature in 1973 in response to the Court's decision in Furman).

. Transcript of Hearing of Apr. 25-27, 1988, at 231, State v. Birt, Super. Ct. of Jefferson Co., Ga. No. 2360 (1988) (on file with author). The lawyer was referring to Miranda v. Arizona, 384 U.S. 436 (1966), and Dred Scott v. Sandford, 60 U.S. (19 How.) 393 (1857). Dred Scott was not a criminal case.

. Brief for Appellant, Ex parte Heath, 455 So. 2d 905 (Ala. 1984). The brief is set out in full in Bright, supra note 25, at 1860-61 n.154.

. See Andrews v. Shulsen, 485 U.S. 919 (1988) (Marshall, J., dissenting from denial of certiorari).

. See Hance v. Zant, 114 S. Ct. 1392 (1994) (Blackmun, J., dissenting from denial of certiorari); Bob Herbert, Mr. Hance's 'Perfect Punishment,' N.Y. Times, Mar. 27, 1994, at D17; Bob Herbert, Jury Room Injustice, N.Y. Times, Mar. 30, 1994, at A15.

. For further discussion of the influence of race on the imposition of the death penalty and the failure of legislatures and courts to deal with the problem, see Stephen B. Bright, Discrimination, Death and Denial: The Tolerance of Racial Discrimination in the Infliction of the Death Penalty, 35 Santa Clara L. Rev. 433 (1995).

. Clif LeBlanc, Smith Lawyer Donates $83,000 in Fees, The State (Columbia, S.C.), Feb. 2, 1996, at B3; Andrew Blum, Defender Proffers Fees, Nat'l L.J., Apr. 15, 1996, at A7.

. Testament of Hope: The Essential Writings of Martin Luther King, Jr. 259- 67 (James M. Washington ed., 1986).

. Id. at 267.

. See Helen Prejean, C.S.J., Dead Man Walking: An Eyewitness Account of the Death Penalty in the United States (1993) (describing her work with death row inmates).

. Wiesel's Speech: This Honor Belongs to All the Survivors, N.Y. Times, Dec. 11, 1986, at A2.

. Amadeo v. Zant, 486 U.S. 214 (1988).

. A. Leon Higginbotham, Jr., Justice Clarence Thomas in Retrospect, 45 Hastings L.J. 1405, 1430 (1994).

. Carl T. Rowan, Dream Makers, Dream Breakers: The World of Justice Thurgood Marshall 453-54 (1993).

Page

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

The Serpent IN the Garden January 14, 1996 Houston: Inaction Allowed Abuser To Roam For 10 Years.

If this was leaked to the media did the Corpus Christi Caller Times tell us about this pedophile?

Did the Caller publish any stories on this matter?

And the CCISD Board did they inform the community?

The Serpent IN the Garden January 14, 1996 Houston: CCISD board President Henry Nuss AQUIESCED. CCISD eagerly supplied pedophile with young patients - even after he had been publicly charged.

CORPUS CHRISTI - James Plaisted was a respected child psychologist, a deacon in one of the city's largest Baptist congregations and the father of four.



He also was a child molester so brazen he escorted little girls into church and fondled them under his coat while listening to the sermon.



Parents knew. So did church pastors, school officials and state regulators. But few did anything to stop him, and those who tried were remarkably unsuccessful.



It took 10 years to get Plaisted behind bars. Only he knows how many children he molested during that time.



Last month, Plaisted - already serving a two-year federal prison term for luring a Texas patient to Boston to continue molesting her -was brought back to Corpus Christi in chains.

He pleaded guilty to sexually assaulting four girls and was sentenced to 40 years in prison.



State regulators have yet to revoke his license to practice psychology.



""I think the Plaisted case is the model of what happens when the system fights with itself," said Susan Snyder, a Kingsville attorney and former prosecutor who tried to lock up Plaisted in 1992.



""Obviously, there have been safeguards in place to prevent this man all along, but either (state officials) were too lazy or too busy, or too scared of the politics of going and yanking this man's license," Snyder said. ""It's not the legal system failing. It's the people within the legal system that refuse to let the legal system work."



It's not as if no one tried.



Carmen Alvarado, the mother of the first child to accuse Plaisted more than 10 years ago, sought criminal charges against the therapist and filed an ethics complaint with the Texas Board of Examiners of Psychologists. She alleged that Plaisted had fondled her son's penis during a late-night counseling session.



Alvarado called the Parkdale Baptist Church, where Plaisted, 46, was a deacon.



""They said they were leaving it in God's hands," she recalled.

""I don't think they were thinking straight at the time."



She went to other parents. She got no help.



In the end, it was just her son's word against Plaisted, who told a Corpus Christi jury in 1986 that the 6-year-old child was a habitual liar and a pyromaniac who derived sexual excitement from setting fires. It didn't help that a new prosecutor was assigned to the case just before trial.



The jury acquitted Plaisted; his practice continued.



""It made me mad because when I went for help, all I asked was for them to testify," Alvarado recalled. ""We lost because my son was the only witness we had."



""It was a very tough call to make," said another victim's mother. ""And looking back, I really should have crucified him, but I didn't. I chose not to after talking to my attorney. He told me it would just really traumatize my daughter."



The Corpus Christi woman, who asked not to be identified, said she did confront Plaisted and his wife, who were neighbors in 1984, when her daughter was allegedly molested while spending the night with one of Plaisted's daughters.



""He did not deny it," she said. ""He said he could have done it



in his sleep."



Plaisted's wife laughingly added that she and her husband often made love at night, and he would not remember the next morning, the woman said.



The woman, who was also a member of the Parkdale Baptist Church, recalled telling church officials later about Plaisted's molestations.



""But it didn't seem to make any difference," she said. ""The church really backed him up, and a lot of people left the church after that."



Plaisted's attorney, Doug Tinker, refused to allow the Chronicle to interview his client. The criminal defense lawyer, who earlier this year represented Yolanda Saldivar, who was convicted of murdering Tejano star Selena, declined to discuss the Plaisted case.



The victims' families have since sued the church for negligence, but Parkdale's lawyer argues the congregation should not be held responsible for Plaisted's actions.



""It would be the church's wish to get this thing resolved without causing any additional hurt to anyone," said attorney Van Huseman. But he added, ""If a child gets molested in the middle of the service, how does that get to be the pastor's fault?"



Plaisted - a Nebraska native who served in the Army in Vietnam -came to Corpus Christi in 1982 with impeccable credentials, having earned his doctorate in clinical and child psychology from Auburn University in Alabama in 1981.



He quickly built a private practice, and over the years, developed a good reputation as an expert on brain dysfunction.



The Corpus Christi school district, along with local pediatricians, eagerly supplied him with young patients - even after he had been publicly charged. Members of the church also sought his help, and he had hospital privileges at the prestigious Driscoll Children's Hospital, a South Texas institution known both for quality care and charity.



Neighbors described Plaisted as pleasant, reserved, well-spoken. He was methodical, they said, and liked to work on projects around the house.



Plaisted recruited some of his victims from broken homes, showering the children with gifts, inviting them and their parents to Thanksgiving dinners. One 9-year-old girl who spent the night with Plaisted's daughter told prosecutors the psychologist molested her on the sofa in his living room while he and the children watched the movie "Home Alone"

on video.



He curried favor with his victims' parents by lending them money and refusing repayment, or by buying them air conditioners and other gifts. One mother even acted as a character witness for the therapist during the Alvarado trial, unaware that her own child was being molested.



""The bottom line is this guy had complaints filed against him at the psychology board - and they are serious - and the board doesn't notify the school about the complaints," said Jerry Boswell, director of the Citizens Commission on Human Rights, a group funded by the Church of Scientology (SEE CORRECTION) that documents cases such as Plaisted's. ""And the school is still referring children to this guy."



Corpus Christi school administrators said they used Plaisted infrequently for psychological testing of students, although school records and correspondence indicate he was a consultant from 1983 until he was indicted for child sexual assault in late 1992.



School administrators have identified records of five students referred to him for psychological testing between 1985 and 1992. There are no records prior to 1985.



School board President Henry Nuss, who has served on the board for seven years, said he first heard of the Plaisted case when he was contacted by the Houston Chronicle last week.



""We certainly should be more selective in who we're using," he said.



After Plaisted was charged in the Alvarado case in April 1986, Robert J. Garcia, the school district's special education director, wrote to the state psychology board to ask about the psychologist's record. The agency's executive director replied that Plaisted's license had been suspended, but because the psychologist was in the process of suing to get it back, he remained licensed to practice. The letter gave no details about the nature of the complaints.



""He was given a clean bill of health by the only agency that had anything to say about it," said Dr. Adrian Haston, a psychologist who coordinates the school district's psychological services, and who, years ago, shared an office with Plaisted.



Haston emphasized that none of the schoolchildren referred to Plaisted were molested. ""And we never had anything untoward, any problems of that sort," he said.



Asked why the district would risk using a psychologist once accused of being a child molester, Haston replied, ""This is something the district did, and you can ask the director of special education why."



Garcia said in a recent telephone interview that he could not remember whether he knew about the child molestation charges at the time he wrote to the psychology board.



""All I know is we asked for what his status was and they said he could still practice," he said. ""We knew he was under review, but we didn't know what for.



""Look, the state board of psychologists, they're the ones that allowed him to continue to practice," Garcia added angrily.

""If anyone should be asked as to why this guy was allowed to continue, it should be the state board of psychology."



Pressed for further details, Garcia abruptly ended the interview and hung up the phone.



Although Plaisted was acquitted in August 1986 in the Alvarado case, the psychology board continued its investigation and ruled in November of that year that Plaisted had violated professional standards.



The board officially suspended his license for two years, but said he would be allowed to resume his practice in three months.



Meanwhile, Plaisted challenged the suspension in state district court in Austin, arguing the psychology board had unfairly considered allegations that had not been introduced during his hearing, denying him the opportunity to defend himself against them. The judge agreed, and in January 1987 reversed Plaisted's suspension.



While the board was investigating Plaisted's case, they were contacted by Corpus Christi psychologist George Kramer.

Kramer, who had hired Plaisted in 1982 before Plaisted was licensed, told the board to subpoena records of the state Department of Human Resources. It did, and found other instances of alleged molestation by Plaisted.



In April 1989, the board reached an agreement with the psychologist that allowed him to keep his license if he agreed to be supervised for 11/2years. Plaisted was to treat children only in the presence of an associate or in a location where he could be observed by a television monitor. He also was to pay to have Corpus Christi psychologist Joseph Horvat supervise his casework.



Horvat met with Plaisted weekly, but after a year - convinced that Plaisted was doing nothing wrong - he recommended the supervision be terminated six months early. The board decided to continue the supervision.



""I have found no evidence in any way, shape or form of any behavior on his part which could be in any way construed as unprofessional or unethical," Horvat wrote to the board.



Included in one of his reports to the board was a review of Plaisted's treatment of an 8-year-old girl - a child Plaisted was later charged with molesting.



The board's general counsel, Barbara Holthaus, acknowledged past actions taken by the agency were inadequate.



""With hindsight, of course it wasn't appropriate, because look at what happened," Holthaus said. But she said the board has since added lay people to its ranks and has a new, tougher state law giving it better enforcement powers.



""Now, if we get a report that a psychologist is molesting a client, we can go before a judge and say we want to temporarily suspend the license," she said.



Holthaus said the board has filed a motion to revoke Plaisted's license, but Plaisted is fighting it.



""It's all kind of moot, because he's incarcerated," she said.



Soon after Plaisted completed his board-ordered supervision, Corpus Christi police received new information from state child welfare workers that Plaisted had been molesting girls at his office, in church and at home in his hot tub.



Former detective Eric Michalak, who now works in Colorado, remembered taking the Plaisted case to a Nueces County assistant district attorney for prosecution.



""He wanted to get a warrant for the doctor and arrest him, because we had very strong evidence against him," Michalak said. ""We had multiple victims and you had a guy in the position he was in, where he had access to all these victims.

You would want to take quick action rather than let it go on for so long."



The prosecutor was overruled by then-District Attorney Grant Jones, Michalak said. ""(Jones) just said, `We're not getting a warrant. We're taking our time.' He wanted the kids reinterviewed by one of the prosecutors.



""Any time you go after someone like that, there's a lot of politics that come into play," Michalak added. ""Instead of stepping in right then, and bringing it out in the open and taking it to a grand jury (for indictment), they delayed."



Jones contends that any delay in prosecution was an effort ""to tie the case down tight. We didn't want to lose him twice,"

said Jones, on whose watch Plaisted was acquitted in the Alvarado case.



Jones called it ""outrageous" the psychology board still hasn't revoked Plaisted's license.



""They should have done it in 1986," he said. ""What they want to do is wait around until you go to trial and you convict him, and then they come in behind your conviction and revoke his license. Well, what's he doing in the meantime? He could be out in the community molesting kids for two years."



Michalak said the case was finally taken to the grand jury several months later after he leaked the information about Plaisted's investigation to the local media.



""It was taking too long, and it wasn't being handled like another case," he said. ""And it was because he was so prominent in the community."



Plaisted was finally indicted in Corpus Christi in October 1992. He posted bond, closed his practice in Corpus Christi, and negotiated an agreement with the psychology board to place his license on inactive status until he could prove his innocence.



He then moved to Boston, where he enrolled in Boston University Law School and successfully completed his first year of studies by May 1994.



While in law school, Plaisted began calling a former patient - the girl whose treatment Horvat had reviewed in Corpus Christi. Plaisted convinced the girl's mother - who was also a patient of his - to bring the girl to Boston for additional therapy.



Plaisted's plans were foiled when a policeman setting up a speed trap in his neighborhood accidentally intercepted on his police radio a sexually explicit telephone call between the girl and Plaisted, who was using a cordless phone.



FBI agents were called in, six other calls were taped, and Plaisted was arrested on June 3, 1994, after he met the girl, then 13, and her mother at the train station and took them to a budget motel.



""The mother wasn't aware" of the molestations, said Adolfo Aguilo, an assistant Nueces County district attorney. ""The mother had a borderline personality disorder - she developed dependency on people -and unfortunately for her the person she developed a dependency on was Dr. Plaisted."



Sgt. Michael Harpster, a police detective from suburban Boston who helped arrest Plaisted, described him as ""very congenial, almost shy."



""He'd answer questions very courteously, but he didn't show any outward signs of knowing the seriousness of the situation," Harpster said.



Last January, Plaisted was sentenced by a federal judge in Boston to a two-year prison term after he pleaded guilty to transporting a minor across state lines to engage in illegal sexual activity.



The Corpus Christi conviction and sentence came almost a year later.



In the end, Plaisted admitted molesting four victims. But prosecutors say no one will ever know how many others failed to come forward.



""I imagine there could be several other victims. Through his practice and the church he probably had access over the years to thousands of children," said Aguilo, the Corpus Christi prosecutor who eventually secured Plaisted's guilty plea.



""To me, any kid that came in contact with this guy was a victim in some way or another," added Michalak.



When Plaisted was sentenced last month, it was a bitter emotional meeting for many of his young victims and their parents, who had been called as witnesses in case Plaisted decided against the plea bargain.



Parents said Plaisted stood up straight, held his head high and looked the judge in the eye. And when he saw the relatives of his former victims, he acted as if he were attending a reunion of old friends, they said. One parent said Plaisted looked as if he thought they were there as supporters or character witnesses.



""He turned around and gave the families a big smile," Alvarado said. ""I couldn't believe it."



Alvarado, who sued Plaisted in civil court, has received a settlement for an undisclosed amount. Her son, now a teen-ager, is still struggling with his past abuse, she said, and she continues to feel betrayed by those who would not join her in speaking out years ago.



""I told them if they had helped me in the beginning, none of this would have happened," she said.



Plaisted timeline



Key dates in the career of Dr. James R. Plaisted:



January 1983: Licensed to practice psychology in Texas.



October 1984: Investigated by Texas Department of Human Resources for allegedly molesting a neighbor's child.



April 1986: Charged in criminal case for allegedly fondling a boy during therapy.



August 1986: Acquitted by jury in Corpus Christi.



October 1992: Indicted for sexual abuse of three Corpus Christi girls.



December 1992: Closed Corpus Christi office; moved to Boston to begin law school.



June 1994: Arrested by FBI agents for luring a 13-year-old former Corpus Christi patient to Boston.



January 1995: Indicted by Corpus Christi grand jury on three counts of aggravated sexual assault for incidents years earlier involving the same girl.



January 1995: Sentenced to two years in federal prison in Boston case.



Dec. 7, 1995: Sentenced to 40 years in state prison by a Corpus Christi judge after pleading guilty to five counts of aggravated sexual assault of a child.

Thursday, May 24, 2007

Randy Farenthold had refused to back down, and he was murdered because of it.

"i'M WAITING" AS spoken by Sonic The Hedgehog



The Randy Farenthold Murder
©Lee Paul

In all of Jim Peters’ years as a Texas Ranger, there was probably never a more widely-publicized murder investigation than that of George Randolph Farenthold, multi-millionaire playboy step-son of gubernatorial candidate, Frances “Sissy” Farenthold. When Randy’s body was found in the surf off Mustang Island, shocked Texans everywhere demanded a quick ending, but it wasn’t to be. Before his death was finally solved, it involved literally hundreds of investigators, half a dozen or so investigative agencies, no clues, theories by the score, and a reward that approached one million dollars. It was Jim Peters who probably provided the most evidence leading to a solution of the case, and it was Peters who finally brought Randy’s killer back to Texas for justice. It’s a case no one involved will ever forget.

It began on Monday, June 6, 1972. That morning, elderly Port Aransas fisherman Carl Carson and his helper, Joe, expected just another routine day. As they did every day of the week before the sun peeked over the horizon, they drove in Carson’s battered old pickup truck down the packed sand of Mustang Island beach and searched for any signs of bait fish in the surf. Their usual custom after Carson found what he was seeking was to park the truck, drag a large beach seine down to the surf, wade into the shallow water pulling the seine, make a large circle, and then tow the fish-laden net ashore. Carson would sell the catch to charter and pleasure boat captains and pay Joe. Over the years, he’s captured tons of bait fish in that manner.

This morning, however, was different. It was a little past 6:00 a.m., and the sun had already topped the horizon before Carson finally spotted what he wanted in the surf. The two men would have to hurry if they expected to sell their catch to early-morning boat captains. The charter boats left at 8:00 a.m. sharp for their first excursions of the day.

Carl Carson parked his truck just out of reach of the tide, and along with Joe, waded into the gentle waves with the big net. They walked in their customary circle, dragging the seine, and as the net filled with mullet and became hard to tow, it snagged on something heavy in the water. The old fisherman stepped gingerly out to see what it was. Peering into the clear water, he recoiled in horror. Sightless eyes in a bloated face stared back at him through the mesh of the seine.

The two men struggled to drag the corpse to shore, which was no easy task because of the condition the body was in. After stooping down to examine it closely, Carson left Joe guarding the discovery, jumped in his truck, and sped back down the beach to the Port Aransas Police Department.

Port Aransas is a small beach community of about 5,000 permanent residents, and the Police Department shares a facade with City Hall. Carson parked in front of the building, entered, and reported to the dispatcher on duty, Sergeant Paul Olsen. He told Olsen of finding a body in the surf on Mustang Island, and then added for definite clarification, “and it wasn’t no accident, either. The man’s been beat, cut, and tied up with wires and chains...and there’s a concrete block wired to his neck!”

Sergeant Olsen stared at Carson like he was crazy, but the old man was a well-known character and had a reputation for being nobody’s fool. Olsen got up and walked into the inner office where the Chief of Police, Jim Wright, was sipping his morning coffee. “You’re not going to believe this,” Olsen began, and then filled his chief in on the details as Carson had told them.

Chief Wright listened dumbfounded. Violent crime never happened in Port Aransas. He hurried to the outer chamber, talked a few moments with Carson, and then instructed the old fisherman to lead the way to the body. He jumped in his patrol car and followed the old man’s battered pickup truck down the beach.

At precisely where Carl Carson said it would be, Jim Wright bent over and examined the mutilated corpse. It was a gruesome sight to behold. Not only was the face cut, bruised, bloated, and chalky white from being immersed in the sea, but wire and chain were wrapped tightly around the neck---the other end of the chain being secured to a 40-pound concrete block. Yet, even through the distortion and grotesque appearance, the face looked vaguely familiar.

“My God!” breathed Chief Wright. “I think it’s Randy Farenthold.” He raced to his patrol car and radioed Sergeant Olsen with the news. The Sergeant notified the Nueces County Sheriff’s office and the County Medical Examiner, Doctor Joseph Rupp.

By 8:00 a.m., the area was teeming with police and medical officials from Port Aransas and Corpus Christi. Several of the public officials present agreed that the corpse looked like Randy Farenthold, but no one could actually be certain because of the advanced state of decomposition. One deputy, however, made a prophetic statement, “If that IS Randy Farenthold, there’s going to be hell to pay.”

The coroner ordered the body removed to Corpus Christi, and ambulance attendant, Don Moore, who would later become a Port Aransas police officer himself, drove it to the Nueces County Medical Examiner’s office. By nightfall, the coroner had a verdict. The body found in the surf at Port Aransas was, indeed, that of George Randolph Farenthold. It was the coroner’s opinion that the victim had died of a combination of strangulation, beating, asphyxiation, and drowning.

George Randolph Farenthold, or Randy as he liked to be called, was Corpus Christi’s one and only playboy millionaire. Oh, there were millionaires in the “Sparkling City by the Sea,” but none had the charm, the good looks, or the connections that Randy had. He had friends by the thousands, acquaintances by the score, and no apparent enemies---or so everyone thought.

His grandfather was the late Rand Morgan, the wealthiest industrial businessman for miles around. When Randy turned twenty-one in 1961, he inherited Morgan’s cotton and maize farms, and several large cotton gins all over South Texas. One of the largest of the gin complexes was on Rand Morgan Road, located just outside the Corpus Christi city limits on the northwest side of town. Much to the surprise of others in the business community, Randy leaped whole-heartedly into the company and ran it with a firm hand. He seemed imbued with business acumen, and it wasn’t long before he had multiplied his considerable fortune many times over.

Randy married and fathered two children, and to all outward appearances, he seemed a devoted parent and husband. But trouble brewed on the horizon. The more successful he became, the more time he spent pursuing his leisure activities of gambling, pigeon shooting, and sports fishing. Although things were friendly and he kept in close contact with his family, there was first a legal separation from his wife, and then a divorce.

In 1970, Hurricane Celia changed his life forever. The windy lady blew ashore between Corpus Christi and Port Aransas with peak wind gusts estimated at more than 210 miles per hour---no one knows for sure, as all wind barometers blew away. She damaged or destroyed practically everything in her path. One of her casualties was the Farenthold cotton gin on Rand Morgan Road. It was completely destroyed, and that seemed to be the turning point in Randy’s life. He did not rebuild the gin. Instead, he shucked the business world altogether.

Randy Farenthold was an avid sports fisherman, and one of his memberships was with the Port Aransas Boatman’s Association. His pride and joy was a 35-foot yacht, THE LOLLIPOP, which he kept docked at the island community, and his presence around town soon became a common sight to the local islanders. In fact, his transformation became so complete, that the locals looked upon him as one of their own, which is no easy feat in an island community where anyone in coat and tie is looked upon with suspicion. Randy took to wearing worn tee shirts, old faded jeans, and sneakers without socks.

Although extremely wealthy, Randy had several things going for him with the Port Aransas island community. Foremost among them was that he never “put on airs” with the local folks. He always treated everyone with such open friendliness that he achieved a reputation as “just a good ole boy.” Randy was also one “hell of a fisherman,” and it gained him the respect of all the boat captains in the whole area. The islanders vied with each other to work on THE LOLLIPOP.

It seemed inconceivable to everyone that Randy Farenthold could be murdered. The Saturday before his body was found, the Farenthold family celebrated Sissy Farenthold’s entry into Texas politics. She had narrowly missed becoming her party’s gubernatorial candidate, and it was a sign of the changing times in the Lone Star State. Although Randy’s absence at the party was duly noted, no one ever suspected that at that very moment, miles away on the Texas Riviera, as the Gulf Coast around Corpus Christi was known, he was being brutally murdered, his body being dumped into the sea. Everyone just assumed he had gone deep sea fishing---the bill fish were running---and that he would show up later that night. When his body was found Monday morning, as the deputy had said, “all hell broke loose.”

Nueces County Sheriff Johnnie Mitchell was on vacation when Randy’s body was pulled from the surf. He had just won re-election in a particularly arduous political campaign and was looking forward to a few days of rest and relaxation before returning to Corpus Christi and the influx of summer visitors. When he learned the identity of the victim, however, he caught the first plane back to personally take charge of the investigation. He knew the Farenthold family was sure to apply pressure from every quarter for a quick arrest in the case.

Sheriff Mitchell assigned investigators Ted Jolly and Lester Manson to the case, and they began on Mustang Island trying to trace Randy’s last hours. It was a monumental undertaking from the beginning. The tourist season was just beginning, and already, thousands of visitors were in Port Aransas for fishing and swimming in the warm Gulf waters. Men, women, and children milled everywhere up and down the main thoroughfare, and cars were bumper to bumper at the ferry landing---both entering and leaving the island paradise. The two officers just stood on the steps of city hall and stared aghast at the situation. Randy’s killer could be anyone.

Deputies Jolly and Manson decided to start their search along the waterfront dock area. Before the day was over, they had interviewed sailors, fishermen, boat captains, bartenders, waitresses, waiters, and service station attendants. They were confident they had traced every movement Randy had made in the last week of his life. Nowhere did they turn up the name of anyone who would want to kill him. Randy Farenthold seemed to be well-liked and admired by everyone in town.

At the same time the sheriff’s deputies were conducting their investigation, Jim Peters exercised his prerogative of entering the investigation of any crime occurring in Texas by beginning his own formal study of the case. Even though one of the issues on Sissy Farenthold’s ticket had been the abolition of the Texas Rangers Organization --- probably the single, most important reason why she lost the election --- Jim Peters gave the case everything he had. His attention to detail missed nothing.

Peters conducted his investigation in practically the same manner as the sheriff’s deputies. He went to Port Aransas and interviewed hundreds of islanders, gleaning as much as possible about the last few days of Randy Farenthold’s life. He learned that in the previous week, Randy had participated in a deep sea fishing tournament in New Orleans and had then brought THE LOLLIPOP back to Port Aransas, where he had it hauled out of the water to repair some minor hull damage.

On June 2nd, Randy had been seen around his beach house. He had also gone to a swank nearby restaurant for dinner, and so meticulous was the investigation that Peters learned what Randy had ordered from the menu. Randy spent the night at his beach house, got up early the next morning, and had breakfast at a local cafe. He had then gone down to his boat and helped the boat captain repair the damage, spending the remainder of the day at the dock.

On June 3rd, Randy had driven down the beach to Padre Island and had entered Corpus Christi via the John F. Kennedy Causeway, voting before the polls closed. From there, he went to his elegant Corpus Christi home, showered, and changed clothing. His next stop had been the Corpus Christi Yacht Club, where he enjoyed two drinks around 6:00 p.m., before driving to his ex-wife’s home for dinner with her and their two children. He left that residence around 8:00 p.m. and headed for a local nightclub.

Randy had spent an aimless night on June 3rd. He went from one night spot to another, before becoming engaged in a crap game which witnesses claimed had netted him several thousand dollars. It could have been a motive for murder, but Jim Peters learned that all the men in the crap game were wealthy and in the same social class as Randy. Furthermore, Randy had really only won several hundred dollars, not thousands as reported, and the sheriff’s deputies had already found the money from the game where Randy had carelessly tossed it---in a dresser drawer in the master bedroom of his house.

One puzzling aspect to the case concerned the finding of Randy’s car keys in the grass in front of his house. His car was parked neatly in the driveway. Had he been accosted before reaching his front door? Peters thought he had, but how to account for the money from the crap game in the dresser drawer? Perhaps, Peters reasoned, the money in the dresser drawer wasn’t from the crap game after all. Suppose it was Randy’s “mad money,” money he routinely kept on hand all the time? Peters also theorized that Randy might have been home, left the money, and had been accosted as he was leaving for somewhere else. It would be months before Peters would know which theory was correct.

Peters learned that Randy had received a phone call from a woman prior to leaving the last nightclub. Thinking she might have lured Randy home to his house, where he had then been abducted and killed, he tracked her down and interviewed her. It was a false lead. The woman in question had only called and asked Randy to join her for a drink, which he had politely refused. When Peters checked, her story held up.

Randy Farenthold met his killer sometime in the early morning of June 4th...someone who hated him enough to hack him with a knife, beat him viciously with a club, and then garrote him with wire, before chaining at least one 40-pound concrete block to his neck and dropping him into the Gulf of Mexico. But who? And why? The thirty-two-year-old Randy was liked and admired by everyone.

Jim Peters sent the chains, wires, and concrete block to the Crime Lab in Austin for analysis, but it proved to be fruitless. Items of that nature were so common that they littered practically every boat yard and dock on the Gulf Coast from the Mexican border to the tip of Florida. Peters then turned his attention to an expert on coastal tides, in an effort to discover exactly where Randy had been dumped into the sea.

The scientist contacted the coroner’s office and obtained the weight and measurements of the body, along with the weight of the chains that had bound the body to the concrete block. Knowing that Randy had died in the early hours of Saturday morning, the tide expert consulted his charts. In his opinion, the body had been tossed into the water at the mouth of the jetties, which border the ship channel running between St. Joseph and Mustang Islands.

The Port Aransas side of the jetties are always packed with fishermen from the crack of dawn until shortly after the sun sets, and the only activity in the area after dark is usually from the shrimp boats headed out for their harvest of the ocean floor. Pleasure craft seldom clear the harbor at night. Even the big, commercial shipping vessels normally “lay to” off the jetties at night, preferring to maneuver the ship channel in daylight. Jim Peters knew Randy’s body had probably been dumped by a shrimp boat. But which one? All of them denied any knowledge in the matter. In fact, they all seemed more than willing to take the law into their own hands the moment Randy’s murderer was caught. Everyone in Port Aransas felt the same way.

Meanwhile, the two sheriff’s deputies from Nueces County, Ted Jolly and Lester Manson, were also busy with the shrimp boats. They intensively questioned the crews of two boats, learning only that another shrimper had left Port Aransas for Houston around the time of the killing. The two deputies then journeyed to Houston to question the suspect, but it turned out that the shrimper had only gone to Houston to voluntarily check himself into the Veterans Administration Hospital for narcotics addiction. Another dead end.

Things took a strange turn of events when the Federal Bureau of Investigation entered the case. It turned out that Randy Farenthold was a key witness scheduled to testify in federal court on a fraud case involving a Corpus Christi contractor with alleged ties to the Mafia. The trial was set to begin four months away---in October.

According to the FBI, Randy had been approached in 1969 by contractor Bruce Bass with a get-rich-quick-scheme of buying short-term U.S. Treasury notes at a huge discount from a Mafia source in Houston. Bass claimed that he was unable to raise the cash on his own, but he offered to cut Randy in as a partner if Randy would finance the plan.

Randy knew Bass from years of associating in the same “by-invitation-only” gambling and pigeon shooting clic that also involved others of wealthy, independent means. Although the two were acquaintances, they were not close friends, and for some unknown reason, Randy still agreed to the proposition. He put up $100,000 to purchase $166,000 worth of bonds. His instructions were to withdraw the money in cash, check into a Houston hotel, and wait for his contact. The bills were to be in small denominations with non-consecutive serial numbers.

Randy did as instructed, and presently his contact arrived. The “Mafioso” type asked to see the money, satisfied himself that it was all there, and the two men sat down to discuss the transaction. Meanwhile, Randy had called down to Room Service for some soft drinks, and when a knock sounded at the door, he naturally assumed it was the waiter with the drinks. He opened the door, and in rushed a man in a Batman costume, brandishing a sawed-off shotgun. “Batman” robbed Randy of his money, and the Mafioso guy of $10,000---money which Randy said he never saw.

This angered Randy, and he was all for calling in the police, but Bruce Bass talked him out of it. Bass and a companion then placed a call to Las Vegas, Nevada, and claimed they talked with a highly placed Mafia official who promised to listen to Randy’s story. If the official believed what Randy said, he would then recover the stolen money and also sell Randy double the amount of the bonds.

Somewhat mollified, Randy returned to Corpus Christi, secured yet another $100,000, and boarded a plane to Las Vegas with the money. During the journey, however, he came to his senses, and as soon as the plane landed, he went straight to the police. He told them everything. The police officials referred him to the Federal Bureau of Investigation, where agents took his statement and promised to investigate. Randy Farenthold then returned to Corpus Christi, and when Hurricane Celia blew away his cotton gin, committed himself full-time to the gambling, pigeon shooting, and sports fishing activities that he so loved.

Meanwhile, the Special Agent-in-Charge of the Corpus Christi branch of the FBI, Penrod Harris, was hot on the trail. He had a copy of Randy’s statement, and after a thorough investigation of the charges, presented everything to the U.S. Attorney. Early in 1970, Bruce Bass and a Corpus Christi accomplice were indicted for fraud. The charges also named two men from Louisville, Kentucky, as co-conspirators. After numerous delays by lawyers for the defense, the trial was scheduled to begin in October 1972.

With Randy Farenthold the key witness, prosecutors thought they had a sure thing. He was an upstanding citizen of the community with family members highly placed in State politics. Furthermore, he insisted on testifying against Bruce Bass and his associates. He made a powerful witness. The prosecution, however, failed to take into account the power of Randy’s adversaries. When Randy reported death threats on his life, if he persisted in testifying against Bass and his associates, authorities failed to take them seriously. It turned out to be a colossal mistake.

It now appeared to Jim Peters that he had, at last, stumbled over the motive for the murder. He concentrated his efforts on Bruce Bass and his associates. The four men in the indictment, however, had iron-clad alibis for the time of the murder, but that didn’t faze Peters. He reasoned that the murder could have been committed by a hired hitman.

By now, the Port Aransas area literally swarmed with federal investigators. They found nothing more than what the sheriff’s deputies or Jim Peters had found. The FBI then expanded its investigation to include New Orleans, where THE LOLLIPOP had been entered in the fishing tournament the week prior to the murder. Every participating fisherman, every boat captain and dock worker, who had even the remotest contact with Randy, was interrogated and released. Hotel desk clerks, waitresses, bellhops, bartenders, maids...no one was overlooked by the FBI. New Orleans turned up an absolute blank.

Next, the FBI brought a banker over from Georgia, a man who was involved in the gambling clic that Randy belonged to. The banker testified that it was his practice to fly a bunch of the gambling members to the Bahamas, and they would gamble on his plane, spend a couple of days in the sun, and fly back. During the investigation, however, the FBI became highly interested in all the money that the banker was spending, and the man eventually ended up in the penitentiary for embezzling a lot of money from several banks.

Things just went on this way, turning all these weird rocks over, but nothing led to the apprehension of Randy’s killer.

When the federal authorities decided to look for any shadowy character in Randy’s past that might have borne him a grudge, they traveled the Gulf Coast from Cozumel, Mexico, to Carabel, Florida, stopping and interrogating people in hundreds of places. They questioned yachtsmen and shrimpers, jet setters and the downtrodden, running the social gamut from the fabulously wealthy to the unemployed. They expended thousands of investigative hours and learned only one thing---Randy Farenthold had been well-liked by virtually everyone, and they all wanted to see his killer brought to justice.

Meanwhile, right after Randy’s body was found with no trace of his killer, the Farenthold family prepared to issue a news statement with the offer of a six-figure reward for the arrest and conviction of Randy’s slayer. Sheriff Johnnie Mitchell talked them out of it---temporarily anyway. The Sheriff feared the announcement would bring an onslaught of false tips and interference from the general public, especially thrill seekers. He may as well have saved his breath. Everyone in the Coastal Bend area attempted to help, reward or no, and investigators from all the agencies involved found themselves stumbling over each other, as they tracked down each lead and false clue.

The murder car was finally found abandoned in a maize field off Weber Road in the far southwestern part of the city. Chemical tests of the trunk proved it to be the vehicle which had transported Randy to the dock for his final journey to his watery grave, but the owner of the car had reported it stolen. The owner also had an iron-clad alibi. In fact, no one could be found who could even be suspected of driving the death car.

Finding the murder car also presented more problems. To get the body into the trunk required two or more people. Randy stood five feet, ten inches tall, and he weighed 250 pounds. He was healthy and strong, in the prime of life. It seemed unlikely to Jim Peters that any one person could have subdued Randy and inflicted the terrible damaged that he had suffered. Furthermore, one person could not have lifted the body from the trunk and carried him onto the boat---unless the killer was some kind of gigantic weight lifter.

Things took another weird twist when Bruce Bass called the police to his home, pointing in terror to his front door where someone had left a crudely lettered note: “YOU WILL GET YOURS.” Some investigators believed it was just a ruse to put lawmen off the scent, but others believed that it was a genuine threat from Randy’s friends on Mustang Island. The islanders, all 1,218 of them, would have done just about anything to see Randy Farenthold’s murder avenged.

By the time the fraud case was due to come to trial in October, there was still no indictment in Randy’s murder. And without the key witness, the charges against Bruce Bass and associates were dropped. The four co-conspirators scattered.

As the years passed, Jim Peters worked the case at every free moment that he had. His gut feeling told him that Bruce Bass had something to do with the murder, even if Bass’s iron-clad alibi did put him somewhere else at the time. It remained only for Peters to find the evidence which would point to Bass’s guilt. Peters was not alone in his belief. As he searched for the missing clue, the Nueces County Sheriff’s Department, the FBI, the Corpus Christi Police Department’s Organized Crime Unit, and the Nueces County District Attorney also continued to work the case. No one lost track of Bruce Bass.

There also continued to be false leads pouring in from the community in response to the reward offered by the Farenthold family, which now approached one million dollars. Every one was methodically checked out. One promising lead claimed Randy had been killed by a hired killer from Mexico, only when Jim Peters checked into it, the suspect could not be found and the story could not be verified. Peters eventually chalked it all off as a red herring.

By this time, there were so many investigators from so many different investigative agencies that keeping up with the traffic of paperwork seemed all but impossible. Peters finally decided it was time to try yet another tactic. A friend of his, Ken Bung, a lieutenant in the Corpus Christi Police Department assigned to the Organized Crime Unit, called him early one morning, suggesting that they interrogate a prison inmate in the state penitentiary, who might be able to shed some light on the Farenthold investigation. The two lawmen journeyed to Huntsville, near Houston. The inmate had admitted to killing twelve people---“they all deserved killing, but I never picked on any officer”---but he was only convicted of killing two. Although the prisoner readily agreed to talk to the officers, he wasn’t able to help in any way.

Disappointed, Peters and Bung left the penitentiary. They hadn’t gotten very far before Peters’ intuition kicked into gear. “Ken,” Peters said, “Robert Walters is up here. He may be able to help us. Let’s go talk to him while we’re here.”

“Sure,” replied Bung. What did they have to lose?

Peters reached for the radio and called the Huntsville headquarters, known as “The Walls,” to find out which prison Walters was in.

Robert Walters was in jail in Rosharon for his part in the Robert Graham jail break, and the lawmen drove over to the prison to interview him. He didn’t say anything, other than to “let me think about it.” Two weeks later, he sent Peters a letter. “Come back. I want to talk to you,” he wrote.

Jim Peters and Ken Bung drove back to Rosharon, and Robert Walters gave them an earful.

“I’m not interested in any reward money,” Walters said. “I’m also not interested in getting out early. I’m doing my time, and I’ll be out soon. This is the way it went down.”

Walters said that Bruce Bass had come to him and had asked him to set everything up for the hit. According to Walters, Bass had told him to rent two cars, buy a boat and motor to transport the body out into the Gulf, and buy a chain and the big concrete blocks which were used to weigh the body down. Bass then had him buy a navigation map, rent a boat slip in the water at Port Aransas, and rent a boat barn stall in Corpus Christi. Walters then explained how Bass got rid of the boat and the stolen murder car---the whole works. With this information, Jim Peters and the Corpus Christi Organized Crime Unit began to corroborate everything Walters said.

Meanwhile, the unthinkable happened. It was now 1975, and Bruce Bass was involved in a serious automobile accident. As he lay in guarded condition, close to death, police officers, who were so close to arresting him, became frantic with worry. They were almost in a state of sheer panic. “If he dies,” one of them remarked, “we’ll never close the case.” “Yeah, I’d give that guy blood if it’d induce him to give us a statement.”

When Bruce Bass, the prime suspect, finally recovered from the accident and was released from the hospital, he left Texas for Grand Junction, Colorado. He rented a two-bedroom apartment for $250 a month under the alias of Ponders.

Jim Peters and officers of the Organized Crime Unit were finally able to put all the evidence together, and they gave it to District Attorney William B. Mobley. In March 1976, Mobley laid it before the Grand Jury. The panel members spent three months reviewing the evidence. Just before its session was due to expire in July, they requested, and received, a three month extension to continue the study of the evidence. On September 8th, in a sealed indictment, the Grand Jury charged Bruce Bass with the murder of Randy Farenthold.

The indictment was passed on to the District Attorney’s office, and a warrant for arrest was issued for Bruce Bass. Grand Junction, Colorado, authorities then arrested Bass without incident. He waived extradition proceedings, and on September 10th, Jim Peters and two members of the Organized Crime Unit flew in a Department of Public Safety plane to Grand Junction and escorted Bruce Bass back to Texas.

On the way back, the plane stopped in Lubbock, Texas, to refuel, and Peters escorted the prisoner to a comfortable chair in the lounge, where they could wait. Bruce, who hadn’t spoken one word to Peters since the officers had picked him up, suddenly turned and said, “Peters, as skinny and frail as I am, do you think that I could kidnap Randy Farenthold, put him in the trunk of his car, take him out there, take him out of his car and put him into another car, transfer him from car to car, take him out there off Weber Road, beat him with a pistol and choke him to death, put him back in the car, take him over to Port Aransas, put him on a boat, take him out in the Gulf and lift him out of the boat with all those chains and concrete?”

The tall Ranger looked Bruce evenly in the eye and said, “No, but I know you had it done. They got Randy when he got home. They kidnapped him in his driveway and put him in the trunk of the car. They transferred him from one car to another, and you ordered it.”

Robert Walters, in his talks with Peters, also named another person with Bass, and although all the law enforcement officers knew the other person with Bruce, the man was never prosecuted and his name cannot be given. Several years later, this other man died from a heart attack.

Robert Walters was given immunity for his cooperation in breaking the case. He said that he and his brother, Donnie, had gotten everything together for Bruce Bass. At the time Jim Peters interviewed Robert in Rosharon, Donnie was in a federal penitentiary in Kansas, and Robert wanted to talk to Donnie.

“Can you make it possible for me to talk to my brother?” Robert asked the tall Ranger.

“Sure. Be glad to,” Jim Peters replied. It was a call from a prisoner in a state penitentiary to a prisoner in a federal penitentiary in another state.

“When we told the FBI about it later,” Peters laughed, “they said, `That’s impossible. There’s absolutely no way that it can be done.’ I said, `Oh yeah? I’m a Texas Ranger, and Rangers can do anything.’”

Bruce Bass stood trial for the murder of Randy Randy Farenthold had refused to back down, and he was murdered because of it. District Attorney William Mobley spoke for all lawmen everywhere when he said, “...to kill any witness in another case is about as bad as you can get....”

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