The Twitter hashtag that the MJ fans have been using (and that we've all been using on the fan boards for the past two years now) is "justice4mj," so it was difficult for me to remember to type it as "Justice for MJ." It's just become such a habit to type "justice4mj."
Anyway - I got an alert via Twitter on Monday that the verdict was going to be read at 4:00 p.m. EST. It was a rare "I stayed late at work" day (thought not that late), so it was nearly 4:00 p.m. when I got this, and we were still about four blocks from my house. As soon as I got off the trolley, I sprinted home and found CNN on my tv. I didn't bother to hang up my bag or coat, throwing them on the couch beside me (although I have coat hooks for my bags and coat immediately by my front door).
I had planned on recording the trial and skimming it every night, but when they showed Michael's dead body on the first day, and I sat on my couch sobbing for ... I don't even know how long... I decided this was probably not a good idea. So I just read recaps every day.
I was so anxious waiting for the verdict. I've done enough time with two different DA's offices that I was sure that I knew what a less-than-ten-hour deliberation period (given the length of trial) AND a no-questions-from-the-jury verdict meant. But I wasn't going to count anything as a sure bet until the words. Because I've also seen some crazy-ass juries come back and say some crazy-ass things during the time when the attorneys could question them about their thoughts, why they voted the way they did, etc.
As soon as the clerk read the verdict, I start crying. I was sad that I wasn't on the street outside of the courthouse with the other fans, who are people who would have understood the conflicting emotions - reliving the loss, feeling elated that Murrary is now a convicted felon, but still left wondering if justice will really ever be served. (Also, is it sad that when we heard a female yell when the clerk read the verdict, I was POSITIVE it was LaToya... and I later learnt that I was right?)
The most Murray can serve is four years, but even if he's sentenced to that, he most likely won't serve anything close to that because of the prison overcrowding situation. (Think Lindsey Lohan being sentenced to 30 days and serving 4 hours.) Although he's convicted of a felony, it's one of the "lesser" ones, so he could serve it out on house arrest or get it changed to probation. His medical license will be revoked, but only in California. While the DA's office has stated they hope the states in which he's licensed to practice medicine will look into this situation, one of those states is Arizona, and a year after they revoke, he would eligible to reapply to practice.
And, at the end of the day... obviously none of this brings Michael back. The world is left arguing about whether he was a drug addict, whether his concert would have been phenomenal or a mess, and wondering whether "This Is It" really would have been it (I was hoping not. I was hoping it was the beginning of a spectacular comeback, although now that he was raising a family...).
Michael, I'm going to quote one of your sister's songs here: I miss you much.
Showing posts with label justice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label justice. Show all posts
08 November 2011
02 September 2009
On Michael Vick
I've got a lot going on in my life. I've decided to transition my career path, I've decided to start applying to grad schools for Fall 2010 admission, I've been dating for the first time in three years (I mean, those three dates in the past three years really weren't meaningful attempts). The schools that I'm applying to are not in Philly, which means that I will be moving in less than a year (unless all three schools reject me), so I'm already looking around at my books and thinking about a massive yard/book sale.
So given the upcoming stress in my life (most of it eustress, but stress nonetheless), it makes total sense that some of my most recent therapy session was centred around none other than Michael Vick.
The issue of Vick has been weighing heavily on my mind. I am known for being a completely leftist, bleeding-heart liberal. I took a lot of heat on my blog from total strangers for defending Ben Appleby, a death row inmate (and high school friend of mine). I won't go into that issue again on this blog post, but you can about it here. What I've been turning over (and over and over) in my head is how I can go to the mat over cases like Ben, but I've felt so ready to nail Vick's ass to the wall. I've felt so ready to join the Vick protests and refer to his return to the NFL with derision.
But where was my compassion? I've had so much compassion for Ben and other criminals. I've always tried to focus on society's responsibility (which I do NOT believe takes away from an individual's responsibility) to a person, whether in rehabilitation, assistance, fostering community, etc.
But with Vick, it's been different. And it's been bothering me. Is it because he hurt defenceless animals who had no voice? Is it because I knew Ben but didn't Vick? But I've also defended and advocated for others with whom I had no personal connection, so that didn't make sense. And this is why I went to my therapist with it.
And she helped me untangle it. It's still a little hazy for me, and I'm not sure why this is so difficult for me to wrap my head around. I'm hoping that my blogging about it and getting some feedback, it'll help me. But basically, here's how Nancy broke it down:
With Ben, if one believes that he committed the crimes for which he is in prison (he had told me he didn't, but testified in court that he did), then justice is being served. The injustice and compassion comes in because it is my belief that society failed Ben in a major way and that had society NOT failed him, he wouldn't be there in the first place. At one point as a young adult, Ben DID ask (in court, no less) for help and none was given to him.
With Vick, he absolutely committed the crimes (he admitted his guilt), but seems to show little remorse. Although dog-fighting was part of his culture growing up, at some point in his life, he must have realised that this mass cruelty was wrong and that bringing other neighbourhood children into this culture was all kinds of wrongity wrong wrong. When he made it big in the NFL, he had plenty of opportunities to pursue other hobbies, but instead kept on with dog-fighting - never tried to change. And now that he's out of prison, has anyone seen him in a shelter? Has anyone heard of him donating money to the SPCA? He's spent plenty of time at the Eagles compound - has anyone seen him at a pound? Didn't think so.
Nancy said she heard that one of the local SPCA shelters is using a Vick jersey to scrub the floors.
Still... part of my brain says, "But doesn't he, too, deserve his second chance? Is any less deserving of my compassion than someone who is accused of murdering and attempting to rape a 19-year-old young woman?"
This is what keeps me awake at night.
Damn you, Michael Vick.
(For more on this issue, please read the Philadelphia Weekly's cover story, Pit Bulls in Pain, which is on Philadelphia's weak history of punishing dogfighters.)
So given the upcoming stress in my life (most of it eustress, but stress nonetheless), it makes total sense that some of my most recent therapy session was centred around none other than Michael Vick.
The issue of Vick has been weighing heavily on my mind. I am known for being a completely leftist, bleeding-heart liberal. I took a lot of heat on my blog from total strangers for defending Ben Appleby, a death row inmate (and high school friend of mine). I won't go into that issue again on this blog post, but you can about it here. What I've been turning over (and over and over) in my head is how I can go to the mat over cases like Ben, but I've felt so ready to nail Vick's ass to the wall. I've felt so ready to join the Vick protests and refer to his return to the NFL with derision.
But where was my compassion? I've had so much compassion for Ben and other criminals. I've always tried to focus on society's responsibility (which I do NOT believe takes away from an individual's responsibility) to a person, whether in rehabilitation, assistance, fostering community, etc.
But with Vick, it's been different. And it's been bothering me. Is it because he hurt defenceless animals who had no voice? Is it because I knew Ben but didn't Vick? But I've also defended and advocated for others with whom I had no personal connection, so that didn't make sense. And this is why I went to my therapist with it.
And she helped me untangle it. It's still a little hazy for me, and I'm not sure why this is so difficult for me to wrap my head around. I'm hoping that my blogging about it and getting some feedback, it'll help me. But basically, here's how Nancy broke it down:
With Ben, if one believes that he committed the crimes for which he is in prison (he had told me he didn't, but testified in court that he did), then justice is being served. The injustice and compassion comes in because it is my belief that society failed Ben in a major way and that had society NOT failed him, he wouldn't be there in the first place. At one point as a young adult, Ben DID ask (in court, no less) for help and none was given to him.
With Vick, he absolutely committed the crimes (he admitted his guilt), but seems to show little remorse. Although dog-fighting was part of his culture growing up, at some point in his life, he must have realised that this mass cruelty was wrong and that bringing other neighbourhood children into this culture was all kinds of wrongity wrong wrong. When he made it big in the NFL, he had plenty of opportunities to pursue other hobbies, but instead kept on with dog-fighting - never tried to change. And now that he's out of prison, has anyone seen him in a shelter? Has anyone heard of him donating money to the SPCA? He's spent plenty of time at the Eagles compound - has anyone seen him at a pound? Didn't think so.
Nancy said she heard that one of the local SPCA shelters is using a Vick jersey to scrub the floors.
Still... part of my brain says, "But doesn't he, too, deserve his second chance? Is any less deserving of my compassion than someone who is accused of murdering and attempting to rape a 19-year-old young woman?"
This is what keeps me awake at night.
Damn you, Michael Vick.
(For more on this issue, please read the Philadelphia Weekly's cover story, Pit Bulls in Pain, which is on Philadelphia's weak history of punishing dogfighters.)
05 April 2009
An eye for an eye?
In November 2004, Ameneh Bahrami was the victim of an acid attack. She had rejected a guy who was into her, kept harassing her, and proposed marriage to her multiple times. One afternoon, he followed her from her place of work to a train station and threw acid on her face. As a result, her face, hands, and arms are disfigured (the acid got on her hands and arms when she put them up to her face) and she is now blind in both eyes.
Rather than accepting money from attacker Majid Movahedi (a custom known as "accepting blood money"), she requested an eye for an eye. A court ruled that she would be allowed to drop 20 drops of acid into one of Movahedi's eyes (not both - the theory that one man is equivalent to two women apparently applies to their body parts, as well). He will be restrained on a table and his eyes will be forced open as she drops the acid into his eye.
He appealed the court's ruling and recently lost that appeal.
She says she isn't doing this out of revenge. She says she wants this to be a deterrent for future potential acid attackers. She says she won't change her mind.
A lot of human rights activists are up in arms about this. Some say that it violates Movahedi's human rights; the punishment is too barbaric. Some say that since Bahrami now lives in Spain, she should abide by Western humane mores and not participate in such a vengeful, barbaric act. I will admit that the second argument doesn't hold much interest for me. Note that I did not say that I disagree with it, it just doesn't interest me as much as the basic human rights issue does. And I see this as a victim's right issue, as well.
One of the first (and most difficult) lessons I learned in law school is that law and justice seldom go hand in hand. And truth and the justice RARELY coincide (one of my professor went to law school across the street from a church, and his professor often told them that if they wanted Truth, they should go across the street). And I could really do a blog post on the whole law/justice, truth/justice issue later (and I might).
I don't see justice here. I see the law, but no justice. I see the truth (the attack DID happen, Movahedi confessed but is apparently without remorse). I've tried very much since I first heard about this story to see justice. And I just can't find it.
It's tempting to blog about my own journey from a rape/incest victim to a survivor who has forgiven her rapist. But the truth is that that journey took many years, many evolutions, and had its own prices along the way. I can't expect that every victim will feel the same way I do. It's not fair to them (or to me). And I'm not arrogant enough to say that the way I did it was the right way. Survival looks different and takes different forms.
But I wonder if participating in physical barbarism is a necessary step for Bahrami in her journey from victim to survivor. There are things that happened during my transformation that I wish I could do again, do differently, or just altogether take back and erase. While my greatest hope is that she ultimately decides to not do this, my next hope for her is that if she does do this, it does not become a regret in her life.
Rather than accepting money from attacker Majid Movahedi (a custom known as "accepting blood money"), she requested an eye for an eye. A court ruled that she would be allowed to drop 20 drops of acid into one of Movahedi's eyes (not both - the theory that one man is equivalent to two women apparently applies to their body parts, as well). He will be restrained on a table and his eyes will be forced open as she drops the acid into his eye.
He appealed the court's ruling and recently lost that appeal.
She says she isn't doing this out of revenge. She says she wants this to be a deterrent for future potential acid attackers. She says she won't change her mind.
A lot of human rights activists are up in arms about this. Some say that it violates Movahedi's human rights; the punishment is too barbaric. Some say that since Bahrami now lives in Spain, she should abide by Western humane mores and not participate in such a vengeful, barbaric act. I will admit that the second argument doesn't hold much interest for me. Note that I did not say that I disagree with it, it just doesn't interest me as much as the basic human rights issue does. And I see this as a victim's right issue, as well.
One of the first (and most difficult) lessons I learned in law school is that law and justice seldom go hand in hand. And truth and the justice RARELY coincide (one of my professor went to law school across the street from a church, and his professor often told them that if they wanted Truth, they should go across the street). And I could really do a blog post on the whole law/justice, truth/justice issue later (and I might).
I don't see justice here. I see the law, but no justice. I see the truth (the attack DID happen, Movahedi confessed but is apparently without remorse). I've tried very much since I first heard about this story to see justice. And I just can't find it.
It's tempting to blog about my own journey from a rape/incest victim to a survivor who has forgiven her rapist. But the truth is that that journey took many years, many evolutions, and had its own prices along the way. I can't expect that every victim will feel the same way I do. It's not fair to them (or to me). And I'm not arrogant enough to say that the way I did it was the right way. Survival looks different and takes different forms.
But I wonder if participating in physical barbarism is a necessary step for Bahrami in her journey from victim to survivor. There are things that happened during my transformation that I wish I could do again, do differently, or just altogether take back and erase. While my greatest hope is that she ultimately decides to not do this, my next hope for her is that if she does do this, it does not become a regret in her life.
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