VOICE OF JUSTICE
April 1995 Official
Publication of JUSTICE FOR ALL Volume
3 Issue 4
"Justice will only be achieved when those
who are not injured by crime, feel as indignant as those who are."
-King Solomon 635-577 BC
AN ALLOCUTION OF A FEDERAL JUDGE ON VICTIMIZATION
Three young men bent on stealing
a Mercedes-Benz killed a federal judge's father on April 19, 1994, in Dallas.
Before brothers Donald Coleman, 19, and Cedric Coleman, 21, were sentenced
last January by Senior U.S. District Judge William Steger of Tyler for carjacking,
possession of a firearm and possession of a short-barreled shotgun, the
victim's son, Judge Michael Luttig of the 4th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals,
stood to tell the court how terribly their crime had hurt him and his family.
The Coleman brothers and Napoleon Beazley were in a red Ford Probe the night
they followed John and Bobbie Luttig home and Beazley and Donald Coleman
jumped from their own car armed with a pistol and a sawed-off shotgun. According
to the Tyler Morning Telegraph's accounts of the trial, John Luttig was
shot in the head as he stepped out of his car; his wife survived by feigning
death and rolling under the car. The assailants backed the car out of the
garage over her and abandoned it a few blocks away. The three men were arrested
two months later. (Beazley, now 18, was a minor at the time of the crime
and was not named in the federal indictment.) Judge Luttig asked for the
maximum, a life sentence. But after his emotional statement to the court,
Steger said he could not depart from the sentencing guidelines. Donald Coleman
got 43 years, nine months in prison. Cedric Coleman got 40 years, five months.
They and Beazley face capital murder and aggravated robbery charges in state
court.
STATEMENT OF MICHAEL LUTTIG
May it please the Court. It is one of life's ironies that I appear before
the Court for the reason that I do. But I do so to represent my dad -- who
is not here -- and his wife, and daughters. His family, my family. More
than anything else, I do this to honor him, because if the roles were reversed,
he would be standing here today. Of this I am certain. I also owe this to
the other victims of violent crime who either stand silently by, or who
speak and are not heard. I owe it to the public. I owe it, as well, to Donald
and Cedric Coleman, who may yet not understand the magnitude of the losses
they inflicted on the night of April 19.
Words seem trite in describing what follows when your husband is murdered
in your presence, when your father is stripped from your life. The horror,
the agony, the emptiness, the despair, the chaos, the confusion, the sense
-- perhaps temporary, but perhaps not -- that one's life no longer has any
purpose, the doubt, the hopelessness. There are no words that can possibly
describe it, and all it entails. But being the victim of a violent crime
such as this is at least these things. Exactly these things in my family's
case; the equivalent of these things in the countless other cases.
While it is happening and in the seconds and the minutes thereafter.
. .
... it's the sheer horror of half-clothed people with guns storming up your
driveway toward you in the dark of night, when you are totally defenseless.
... it's what must be the terrifying realization that you are first about
to be, and then actually being, murdered.
... it's perhaps seeing in your last moment what in your mind you know was
the murder of your wife.
... it's crawling on the floor of your own garage in the grease and filth,
pretending you're dead, so that you won't be shot through the head by the
person who just murdered your husband.
... it's realizing your husband has been gunned down in your driveway on
your return from the final class you needed to complete your education --
an education that had been the goal of both of you since the day you were
married.
... it's knowing that the reason that your husband was with you -- indeed,
the reason that you were in the car that night at all -- is that his Christmas
gift to you the previous year was the promise that you could take the class
and that he would take you to and from, so that nothing would happen to
you.
... it's mercilessly punishing yourself over whether you could have done
something, anything at all, to have stopped the killing.
Moments later, across a continent...
... it's being frightened out of your mind in the middle of the night by
a frantic banging on your door -- calling the police, then canceling the
call -- and then answering the door. Your body goes limp as you see one
of your best friends standing in the doorway. No words need even be spoken.
For you know that the worst in life has happened. Then, he tells you: "Your
mom just called. Father was murdered in the driveway of your home."
... it's realizing that, at that very moment, the man you have worshipped
all your life is lying on his back in your driveway with two bullets through
his head.
Across the globe. . .
... it's your husband taking the emergency international call, pulling down
the receiver, fumbling for the words, as he starts to deliver the news.
"This is the hardest thing I will ever have to tell you," he begins.
Then, it is the calls home, or at least to what used to be home, first one,
then the other. In eerie, stunned calmness, you hear your mother utter the
feared confirmation:
"Yes, your dad was just murdered. You better come home." Now you
believe.
Within hours. . .
... it's arriving home to television cameras in your front yard, to see
your house cordoned off by police lines; police conducting ballistics and
forensics tests, and studying the place in the driveway where your father
had finally fallen dead -- all as if it were a set from a television production.
... it's going down to the store where your dad had always shopped for clothes,
to buy a shirt, a tie that will match his suit, and a package of three sets
of underwear (you can only buy them in sets of three) so your dad will look
nice when he is buried.
... it's being called by the funeral home and told that it recommends that
the casket be closed and that perhaps your mom, sister, and wife should
not see the body -- and you know why, without even asking.
... it's walking into the viewing room at the funeral home and having your
sister cry out that that just can't be him, it just can't be.
In the days that follow . . .
... it's living in a hotel in your own hometown, blocks away from where
you have lived your whole life, because you just can't bear to go back.
... it's packing up the family home, item by item, memory by memory, as
if all of the lives that were there only hours before are no more.
... it's reading the letters from you, your sister, and your wife, that
your dad secreted away in his most private places, unbeknownst to you, realizing
that the ones he invariably saved were the ones that just said "thanks"
or "I love you." And really understanding for the first time that
that truly was all that he ever needed to hear or to receive in return,
just as he always told you.
... it's carefully folding each or your husband's shirts, as you have always
done, so that they will be neat when they are given away.
... it's watching your mother do this, in your own mind begging her to stop.
... it's cleaning out your dad's sock drawer, his underwear drawer, his
ties.
... it's packing up your dad's office for him, from the family picture to
the last pen and pencil.
... it's reading the brochures in his top drawer about the fishing trip
you and he were to take in two months -- the trip that your mother had asked
you to go on because it meant so much to your dad.
In the weeks thereafter. . .
... it's living in absolute terror, not knowing who had murdered your husband
and tried to murder you, but realizing that often such people come back
to complete the deed, and wondering if they would return this time.
... it's furiously writing down the license number of every Ford Probe for
no reason other than it was a Ford Probe, hoping that through serendipity,
it might be, and sometimes fearing, that that is exactly what might happen.
... it's never spending another night in your own home because the pain
is too great and the memories too fresh.
... it's all day every day, and all night, racking your brain to the point
of literal exhaustion over who possibly could have done this. It's questioningly
looking in the corners of every relationship, to the point that, at times,
you are almost ashamed of yourself. Yet you have no choice but to continue,
because, as they say, it could be anyone.
... it's thinking the unthinkable, that perhaps the act was in retaliation
for something you had done in your job. You ask yourself, "If it was,
should I just walk away?"
... it's watching the re-enactment of your dad's, your husband's murder
on television, day and night, and every time you pick up the newspaper.
... it's reading the "wanted" poster for the people who murdered
him, while checking out at the grocery store.
... it's telling your family night after night that it will be all right,
when you don't believe it yourself.
Then they are finally found, and. . .
... it's collapsing on the kitchen floor when you are told -- not from relief,
but from the ultimate despair in learning that your husband was indeed killed
for nothing but a car, and in an act so random as to defy comprehension.
... it's watching your mother collapse on the floor when she hears this
news and knowing that she will not just have to relive the fateful night
in her own mind, now she will have to relive it in public courtrooms, over
and over again, for months on end.
In the months that follow. . .
... it's putting the family home up for sale and being told that everyone
thinks it is beautiful, but they just don't think they could live there,
because a murder took place in the driveway.
... it's the humiliation of being told by the credit card companies, after
they closed your husband's accounts because of his death, that they are
unable to extend you credit because you are not currently employed.
... it's receiving an anonymous call that begins, "I just learned of
the brutal carjacking and murder of your father," and that ends by
saying. "I only wish your mother had been raped and murdered, too."
... it's the crushing anxiety of awaiting the trauma and uncertainties of
public trials.
The day arrives, and. . .
... it's listening, for the first time, to the tape of your mother's 911
call to report that her husband, your father, had been murdered. Hearing
the terror in her voice. Catching yourself before you pass out from the
shock of knowing that, through that tape, you are present at the very moment
it all happened.
... it's hearing the autopsy report on how the bullets entered your father's
skull, penetrated and exited his brain, and went through his shoulder and
arm.
... it's listening to testimony as to how long he might have been conscious,
and thus aware of what was happening -- not just to him but to the woman
that he had always said he would give his life for.
... it's looking at the photographs of your dad lying in the driveway in
a pool of blood, as they are projected on a large screen before your friends
and family, and before what might as well be the whole world.
... it's having to ask your son what the expression was on your husband's
face.
... it's listening to a confession in which the person says that he just
thought your dad was "playing possum."
... it's listening to your own mother, a lady of ultimate grace, testify
publicly as to how she crawled under the car, in the grease and the filth,
to avoid being murdered.
... it's hearing her say that the only thing she could think of was what
it was going to be like to be shot through the back of the head.
... it's watching her face as she relives that night, time and again.
As the trauma of the trial subsides. . .
... it's getting down on your hands and knees and straightening your dad's
new grave marker and packing the fresh dirt around it, so that it will be
perfect, as he always insisted that things be for you.
... it's sitting across from each other at Thanksgiving dinner, each knowing
that there is but one thing on the other's mind, yet pretending otherwise
for their sake.
... it's telling your wife that the meat was great, when you could barely
keep it down and hardly wait to finish.
... it's trying to pick out a Christmas gift for your mother that your dad
would have picked out for her.
... it's sitting beside your father's grave into the night in 30-degree
weather, so that he won't be alone on the first Christmas.
... it's putting up, by yourself, the basketball goal that you got last
Christmas so that you and your dad could relive memories as you passed the
years together.
... it's finishing by yourself all of the projects that you have not an
idea how to do, and that your dad had said, "Save for the summer and
we'll do them together. I'll show you how."
... it's hearing your 2-year-old daughter ask for "Pawpaw" and
seeing your wife choke back the tears and tell her, "He's gone now,
he's in heaven."
... it's having the clothes your dad was most proud of altered, so you can
wear them in his honor.
... it's wondering whether your wearing the clothes will be too painful
for your mother.
In the larger sense. . .
... it's shaking every time you drive into a darkened driveway.
... it's feeling your body get rigid every time that you drive into a garage.
... it's being nervous every time you walk to your car, even in the open
daylight.
... it's being scared to answer any phone call or any knock at the door
at night (or, for that matter, during the day) because another messenger
may be calling.
Finally, it's the long-term effects. .
. ... it's the inexplicable sense of embarrassment when you tell someone
that your husband or your father was murdered -- almost a sense of guilt
over injecting ugliness into their lives.
... it's going out to dinner alone, knowing that you will be going out alone
the rest of your life.
... it's that feeling -- wrong, but inevitable -- that you will always be
the fifth wheel.
... it's living the rest of your life with the fact that your husband, your
father, suffered one of the most horrifying deaths possible.
... it's never knowing, yet fearing that you know all too well, what those
final moments must have been like.
... it's constantly visualizing yourself in his place that night, moment
by excruciating moment.
... it's realizing that you will never even get the chance to repay your
dad for making your dreams come true.
... it's living with the uncomfortable irony that he lived just long enough
to see to it that your dreams came true, but that his never will.
... it's knowing you never had, and will never have, that one last time
to say thanks for giving me, first, life itself, and then, all that it holds.
And. . .
... it's knowing that this is only the beginning and the worst is yet to
come.
... The haunting images.
... The emptiness.
... The loneliness.
... The directionlessness.
... The sickening sense that it all ended some time ago, and that you are
but biding time.
Of course, for my mother, my sister, my wife and I, the sun will come up
again, but it will never come up again for the real victim of this crime.
Not only will he never see what he worked a lifetime for, and was finally
within reach of obtaining. That would be tragedy enough. But, even worse,
he died knowing that the only thing that ever could have ruined his life
had come to pass -- that his wife and his family might have to suffer the
kind of pain that is now ours -- and he was helpless to prevent it even
as he saw its inevitability. We live by law in this county so that, ideally,
no one will ever have to know what it is like to be a victim of such violent
crime. If I had any wish, any wish in the world, it would be that no one
ever again would have to go through what my mother and my father experienced
on the night of April 19, what my family has endured since and must carry
with us the rest of our lives. Crimes such as that committed against my
family are intolerable in any society that calls itself not only free, but
civilized. The law recognizes as much, and it provides for punishment that
will ensure at least that others will not suffer again at the same hands,
even if it does not prevent recurrence at the hands of others. On behalf
of my dad, and on behalf of my mother and family, I respectfully request
that these who committed this brutal crime receive the full punishment that
the law provides. Three people were needed to complete this crime. Each
of the three was as instrumental to its success as the other. There were
no passive bystanders among the gang that executed my dad. Thank you, Your
Honor.
Reprinted with permission from Judge Michael Luttig.
Thanks to a concerned citizen, Howard LaMont, for bringing this to our attention.
From the President
JUSTICE FOR ALL has obviously become a larger force than any of us ever
expected! We have grown and established ourselves as an effective organization
whose goals concentrate on the public good. We must be accomplishing these
goals because it appears that JFA is perceived as a threat to the status
quo of the criminal justice system.
Direct result of that perception comes in the form of a lawsuit filed by
ex-parole board member Joe Huebenak in which JFA is named as a defendant.
The astounding part of this frivolous suit is the fact that JFA did NOT
EVEN EXIST during the time Mr. Huebenak's suit alleges JFA actively worked
to have him removed from the parole board. (FYI Mr. Huebenak did resign
his parole board position citing health problems as the reason. Hmmm?) We
are in good company in the lawsuit. Other defendants named are: The City
of Houston, Mayor Bob Lanier, Texas Board of Pardons and Paroles, Danny
Downs (Parole Board Member), Andy Kahan (Director Crime Victims Division),
Gloria Gibney (ex-parole board member), Schlumberger, The Houston Police
Department, The Northwest Positive Interaction Program and Jessee Hockaday
(parole officer).
JFA has retained Rusty Hardin of Hardin, Beers, Hagstette and Davidson as
our counsel, in addition to Frank Parish of Schweinle, Parish and Lowerre,
P.C.; we are in excellent hands! JFA will file every sanction allowed under
the law and we believe that the federal court will comply. Clearly this
lawsuit is frivolous and JUSTICE FOR ALL will prevail.
On Tuesday 4/11/95 Ellen Davidson and myself testified before the House
Corrections Committee on H.B. 1433 which deals with repealing mandatory
release. I am happy to report that this bill was voted favorably out of
committee. The next step is Calendars committee. Be sure to check the Legislative
Agenda Progress Report on page 12 for more information on JFA's 4 point
agenda. Please continue to communicate with your Representatives and Senators
stating your support for these bills. When calling or writing always remember
to refer to the number of the bill. These efforts are very important and
will make a difference.
Remember, it is not only our right to become involved in the legislative
process, it is our duty as good citizens.
Pam Lychner
worth repeating
- "It's ironic that those that break the law, are the first to
plead for its protection" ÷ Jeff Brown, ex-law enforcement officer
He credits this statement to an unknown author.
worth reading
- April issue of Mademoiselle Magazine ÷ An article featuring
JFA Board Member, Kim Conner, and her efforts to make a difference.
- "Where Liberals Go To Die" by James Evans
- April issue of Wanted-By the Law Magazine features Houston
and the stories of JFA members Patricia Teer and Linda Kelley. (Difficult
to find)
- Texas Monthly Magazine featuring story on death row inmates
including Erica Sheppard, recently convicted murderer of Marlyn Sage.
Dear Friend,
A student was arrested and convicted for a felony possession of marijuana.
The judge gave him a suspended sentence. Since the penalty seemed light,
the young man turned to his lawyer and asked, "So what did I really
lose?" The lawyer looked at him and replied,
"You have lost the right to vote,
the right to run for office, you lost the opportunity
for being a licensed doctor, dentist, pharmacist, osteopath
physical therapist, lawyer, engineer, realtor, CPA, architect,
private detective, stockbroker, barber, schoolteacher, or a
funeral director. You cannot work for the city, county, state or
federal government. You can enlist in the military service,
but you will not have the choice of service and will
probably be assigned to a labor battalion."
(reprinted from the Washington Accountant)
UPCOMING EVENTS
- Monday, April 17, Jury selection begins in the trial of Rex
Mays in the double murder of KYNARA CARREIRO and KRISTIN WILEY. The actual
trial is set to start May 30, 1995, in the 176th Criminal District Court,
301 San Jacinto (6th floor). The Honorable Judge Raines will preside.
- Monday, April 24, The jury selection will begin in the trial
of Robert Koscheski for the murder of STEPHEN L. MILLSAP. The trial will
be held in the Harris County 177th Criminal District Court, with the Honorable
Miron Love presiding.
- Monday, April 24, Almost 3 years after the August 22, 1992,
murder of CHAD KETCHUM, Joseph Faustino Villarreal is scheduled to go to
trial in the 183rd Criminal District Court (6th floor). The Honorable Jay
Burnett will be presiding.
- Monday, April 24, Devina Nicole Henderson will stand trial
for the February 5, 1994 murder of MICHAEL ANTHONY GEORGE . The trial will
be held in 338th Criminal District Court, 301 San Jacinto (3rd floor.) The
Honorable Mary Bacon will be presiding.
- UPDATES
- Robbie Bayley ÷ In the recent murder trial of, the
jury convicted the defendant, Stanley Nicholas, of CRIMINAL NEGLIGENT HOMICIDE
instead of MURDER. This shocking verdict reflects an alarming and growing
trend among Texas jurors.
- Tommy Hutchings ÷ Fortunately this trend was temporarily
reversed when David Lee Garcia was convicted of the MURDER of Tommy Hutchings.
Garcia, a juvenile, was sentenced to life in prison. He will be 46 years
old before he will be eligible for parole. The Hutchings family stated they
were impressed with the fairness, courtesy, and professionalism exhibited
in Honorable Judge Mary Bacon's courtroom. The family also commended prosecuting
attorney Jean Hughes for her handling of the case.
- Jose Luis Calzada ÷ Jose was one of five shot in a
drive-by shooting committed by Jose Zuniga. Calzada was struck in the back
of the head, the others received non-fatal injuries. The jury brought in
a verdict of CRIMINAL MISCHIEF and fined him $3,000.
Court Notes (by Laura George)
Because of the necessity for objectivity, judges are often misconstrued
as being cold and aloof. However, we would like to take the opportunity
to recognize the recent actions of the Honorable Denise Collins. In the
trial of Jose Zuniga, Judge Collins displayed great support and sympathy
for the family of JOSE LUIS CALZADA. Such sensitivity is greatly appreciated
especially in light of the fact that the jury convicted Zuniga of only a
misdemeanor when initially he had been charged with numerous counts of attempted
capital murder by the juvenile court, decided to just charge him with one
charge of murder. The defendant's lawyer barred the Calzada family from
the courtroom. Judge Collins ensured that the family was always informed
of the progress of the trial as well as all dates and times of the proceedings.
Moreover, because the case was gang-related, Judge Collins sought to protect
the Calzadas by ordering the defendant's supporters to leave the courtroom
at the conclusion of each day at different intervals. When Mr. Calzada was
addressing the jury during the sentencing phase of the trial, he had great
difficulty speaking. Judge Collins considerately gave him time to compose
himself so he could continue. Upon the conclusion of the trial, Judge Collins
removed the defendant's family from the courtroom and then allowed Mr. and
Mrs. Calzada to address the defendant face to face. Such consideration may
not be prescribed by law, but we applaud Judge Collins for her courageous
and caring actions. We would like to see more of this.
TRIBUTE TO A VICTIM'S MOTHER
hen we are in high school or college, we begin to think of getting
married. Some courtships are long and some are rather short. Whatever the
love bug happens to do. Some young ladies look toward a lavish wedding with
all the trimmings. Then there are others who just want to hurry up and go
to the Justice of the Peace. The dreams of a nice home and a family are
the greatest wishes of the young couple.
Not too long after the wedding the young wife becomes pregnant, and all
the tender love and dreams of having a fine healthy baby is in her heart.
Going to the doctor for all the prenatal examinations, following the doctor's
orders and loving the baby inside her. Thinking that this baby may grow
up to be governor, a doctor, a lawyer, or just a plain hard-working honest
person. How many dreams did you have during pregnancy of having a beautiful
healthy baby....
A corner in your apartment bedroom slowly becomes a nursery. Grandparents-to-be
bring all kinds of things for the baby, along with plenty of advice on how
to raise the child. Mother-and father-to-be begin to pick out names for
the baby along with the help of the grandparents-to-be, aunts, uncles and
others, too. You are Queen for the afternoon at the baby shower given by
friends.
The day that the baby is born is a joyous day. You have given life to a
precious baby. Now begins something new; it's called "on-the-job training."
All the advice that is given to you by well meaning parents on both sides
and friends somehow seem to be for someone else, not your baby. Each one
is a different challenge to you. You get up all hours of the night to feed
it and change diapers, how dirty and how often. You sit up with your child
and rock it when it cries from being sick.
Why do you do all of this? It is simply because you LOVE your baby. This
child belongs to you and your husband, and like all good parents you will
do anything and everything to keep it well and healthy. You sing and talk
to it and most of all you LOVE it. You teach it to walk and talk. Those
first steps and words are in your heart forever. All of the Band-Aids, cleaning
our cuts and bruises, patches on torn clothes, hugs and kisses you give.
Then comes the hard part for the child to overcome -- going to school and
meeting new friends and some that are not so friendly. You take your child
to school that first day and how proud of the little girl or boy you must
be. You and your husband help with some homework, you go with her/him to
school events and PTA meetings. You do everything that is within your power
to raise a fine outstanding person. You do all of this because a child has
their parents to look up to as role models. You want to be the best. The
daughter tries to imitate her mother and the son tries to imitate his father.
How much they learn from you that you do not know until years have passed.
As the child grows up to be a young lady or a young gentleman, you begin
to feel pride in your children and all of your dreams begin to come true.
Oh! Mother, how proud you must be; your hard work is making you feel as
if you are floating on a cloud. "Nothing is too good for my child".
Then, within a few minutes or seconds, another mother's child or young person
decides to take your son's or daughter's life. There is no reason for this
hideous crime. When the police officer comes to your door and tells you,
there is a cloud of disbelief and anguish that comes over you and your family.
The true answer is that you did not do anything wrong.
You sit in the courtroom at the trial and you become angry at the mockery
the defense attorney concocts. This poor under-privileged young person did
not have the opportunity living in the ghetto. You say to yourself "This
person had a chance to go to school and get an education like my child.
This person had the same chances for a job as my child."
Mother, if it was not for your firm belief in God and your great inner strength,
you would not be able to handle what has happened to you and your family.
You are the strength of the American family.
By Charles Nawrocki, JFA Member and Volunteer
MESSAGE FROM GOVERNOR GEORGE W. BUSH
Dear Colleague: I am pleased to announce
that the Crime Victim Clearinghouse will soon have a new home as an integral
part of my office at the Criminal Justice Division. The Clearinghouse is
an information and referral service for victims and their families and offers
training and technical assistance for law enforcement, prosecutors, and
community victims assistance programs. The move to the Criminal Justice
Division will greatly enhance the ability of the Clearinghouse to operate
efficiently because of the additional staff and resources at CJD to assist
with the program. I assure you that the Clearinghouse will continue to function
smoothly during the move. The phone numbers will remain the same at 1-800-252-3423
and 512-463-1886. If you have any questions or ideas relating to our effort
to provide quality services for the victims of crime, please call the Clearinghouse
or the Crime Victim Assistance Program of the Criminal Justice Division
at 512-463-1919.
Sincerely, George W. Bush
FYI
TEXAS CLEARINGHOUSE BBS
1-800-262-8826
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