Hello Everybody:
Well, I wish I could say that the past few weeks and months have been pleasant, but, in truth, they've been filled with a whole lot of ups and downs, some of which have taken a definite toll on my mental/emotional reserves. For those of you who are new to the newsletter and unaware of recent events, I just spent nine days on hunger strike, challenging what I believe are the unfair practices and policies of those who hold me here.
Why a hunger strike? Among other things, I was asking that the ongoing harassment of my visitors be investigated and stopped. I'm one of the few prisoners who receives visits on a regular basis (people from all over the world come into this weird place to sit with me), and there has been a growing resentment directed at my loved ones to make them feel unwelcome.
For instance, my friend, Amy, who manages the JFKL campaign, along with her now nineteen-year-old son, Daniel (who's been coming to see me since he was a little boy), came to visit some months ago and were pulled away from the visiting table and interrogated by a supervisor for some thirty minutes about whether or not Daniel's visiting application was properly filled out. Apparently, the person whose job it is to update the application mistakenly cited the wrong age for Daniel, placing him at twenty instead of the then eighteen-year-old he was, an oversight that could have been easily amended and resolved. Instead, he was invited to participate in a "teachable moment" conducted by an overzealous staff member who went out of his way to talk down to a young man who'd done nothing wrong. Sadly, because of this humiliating and unnecessary incident, Daniel has not been to see me in almost a year now–and I don't blame him!
Before the termination of the hunger strike, I received assurances from the warden that this petty harassment would stop, which, for a few weeks at least, seemed to be the case. But already the "weeds" are starting to poke through the veneer of professionalism and the persistent pettiness has resumed. The infuriating thing is that the people who come to see me are taxpayers and are therefore responsible for the paychecks of those who are harassing them, a fact that I've repeatedly pointed out to no avail.
I acknowledge and accept the fact that I am imprisoned in this place, and, though I am here against my will, have tried to make peace with my life (such as it is). However, when it comes to my family and friends, I will fight for whatever fairness that they, as taxpayers, are entitled to. They shouldn't be treated as criminals. They shouldn't have to deal with dumb rules that begin and end in pettiness–the obvious aim of which is to discourage them from visiting. In a place that purports to be about rehabilitation and the reduction of recidivism, the visiting room should be a safe space where bonds can be formed and sustained, not a hostile environment that frustrates and harasses the very people who're responsible for the funding that make this place possible!
On a separate, more joyous note, it appears that I am finally on the verge of receiving the legal help I so desparately need. Things are still in the "tentative" stage, but, if all goes well, I may very soon have a team of capable hands/minds focused on establishing my claims of innocence. The problem, heretofore, has been finding attorneys who are not beholden to the prosecutor's office, attorneys who're prepared to follow the evidence no matter where it leads. I'm confident that, if properly pursued, a solid case can be made to show that my Constitutional rights were blatantly violated.
The good thing about what was done to me is that it was done in a totally different era, during a time when it was unnecessary to cover up prosecutorial misconduct. Hence, evidence of my wrongful conviction is readily discernible. The people who unjustly put me here have done the exact same thing to other black men, and those cases have now come to light, resulting in reversals (Elwood Jones and Marcus Sapp await retrial, and Derrick Jamison is fully exonerated). I'm confident that my case will meet with a similar outcome. It has to.
America is a country that was founded on racism: the arbitrary singling out and mistreatment of a particular group of people. As a country, we know that black people have been treated unjustly. We know that black men in particular have been sentenced to prison in disproportionate numbers relative to other racial groups.
We all watched as George Floyd was murdered (murdered!) in broad daylight, on television, by a racist police officer. And before him, Eric Garner (and so many others, including Sandra Bland and Breonna Taylor). And yet, even with all that we know and understand about this country, there's still such a thing as an all-white jury, an all-white prosecutor's office, where predominantly white men have the power to sentence black men to death (to death!).
On a recent episode of The Real Killer Podcast (on which my case is now being featured), the judge who sentenced me to death bragged and took joy in the fact that he is known as "Hanging Judge Crow," a sad but sure indication that he is still steeped in a bygone era. Or is he? Have we learned anything from our past? Are we better than we were yesterday? These are the questions that I personally pose to myself about myself: are you better, have you learned? I can honestly say that I have, that I am better than my former self. Can you say the same?
This country cannot change if we, as individuals, remain as we are. We have to find our way to a human path and inform our conduct with a deeper sense of life, a deeper sense of what's right; otherwise, all of us, black as well as white, are going down the same drain (to paraphrase Richard Wright). These people have brought us to the brink if our existence, have robbed us of the prospect of a brighter tomorrow. But we can demand a different outcome: justice over hate, love over darkness.
Peace,
~Keith LaMar
