Whiskey River and the 3 Marlboro Omelet

This is a piece I wrote in February, 2006, although I did edit it a little the last time I published it on Dec. 27, 2012 because my writing style improved. Today, I left it intact.

Here we are, eight years after this story, and where are we? I see more racism now than I did in 2006, and I see it on both sides of the fence. If anyone thinks it’s a one-way street, they are blind to society. 

When I was doing design work for a local printer, we had a film stripper who set up our work to make plates for the presses. He was a really good guy and we got along quite well. I was from New Jersey and he was a Florida native. A lot of people from here have a fair amount of resentment towards people from other parts of the country, especially northerners. If you were from Alabamee or Mississippa, you were OK. The northeast? Eh. Not so much.

Ron and I used to tease each other about northern and southern differences - the Civil War, the South Rising Again! That sort of thing, but it was all done in a good natured, friendly manner with no implied intent. Whenever he brought up some Yankee thing to tease me about, I always had a standard reply; one he could not defend, “Well, at least I didn’t have a hangin’ tree in my back yard.”

Ron lived in Apopka, which is a relatively rural town northwest of Orlando. Plenty of the deep south has areas of racial hatred, including parts of Apopka. I’m not trying to single out any community. They’re everywhere, and most of the town is not like that, but there’s a long history steeped in racial bias and, yes, hangin’ trees that should have been chopped down a long time ago. Ain’t been no hangins’ around these here parts in a long time, yet there still exists a small faction of folks who believe the old rules of the deeply segregated south should never and shall never change.

When I moved here in 1981, I found a place in Winter Park called Harrigan’s. My sister used to work there. It’s been gone a long time now, but one of the bartenders ended up buying an established business in downtown Orlando on the corner of Orange Avenue and Pine Street called Tanqueray’s. It used to be part of a bank and housed the vault. You walk down a flight of stairs from street level, step inside, and immediately feel the warmth of the friendly crowd.

Many of the regulars from those days were professionals who worked downtown and stopped in for a drink or two to unwind and socialize. It was known as a hangout for attorneys and it always seemed to be a well mannered, intellectual group. That’s where I met John Morgan, but he has nothing to do with this story. I seldom go downtown anymore, but if I do, I try to stop by, since I’ve known Dan a long time and he always has a few good jokes to tell, plus he’s an all-around great guy.

One time, I dropped by for happy hour. I had to go into the city for some reason and, I figured, why not go see Dan. I took a seat at the bar, near the front door, and we exchanged some friendly banter. The place was quite busy, so we didn’t have much time to talk. Moments after I arrived, some guy was standing to my immediate left. Talk about rough around the edges, he didn’t quite fit in with the rest of that crowd. He ordered a draft beer and said to me, “Yup, I was at Whiskey River at 7 o’clock this morning.”

Whiskey River is a liquor store on S. Orange Blossom trail. It’s certainly not in one of the nicest parts of the city. There are a few scattered around and they have a reputation for catering to hardcore drinkers - the labor pool and unemployment collecting types who live off their pay buying cheap booze and cigarettes. Such was this particular fellow. I have no idea why he chose me out of the crowd to enlighten, but there we were…

“Whiskey River? At 7 AM? So, tell me, what did you have for breakfast?” I asked.

“I had me a 3 Marlboro omelet,” he responded in his gruff, seasoned and rather pickled sounding voice.

“Hmm. Sounds delicious.”

“Yup. It was.” Suddenly, out of the blue, he blurted, “I’m a card carrying member of the KKK.”

“No. No way.”

“Yup.”

I had never met anyone with any sort of affiliation to a white supremacy organization. You know, you always hear stories, but have you ever met anyone like that for real? “OK. Let me see your membership card.”

“Ain’t got one. Don’t need one.”

He didn’t come across as some sort of nasty fellow. He didn’t seem to have gone in there to start trouble. I think he just wanted someone from the “big city” to talk to. Maybe, I looked slick enough. I seem to collect those types, anyway, but I don’t mind. I guess I have a friendly demeanor that people pick up on.

After telling me he lived in the outskirts of Apopka, I thought to myself, why not give the guy a chance to speak his mind. I would try to rationalize everything he says and come back with an appropriate response. I asked him how he could feel this way and have so much hatred inside?

“They’re animals. Damn n*ggers are monkeys.” I think he really wanted to test me, yet I sensed sincerity in his statement and a certain curiosity on his own part, like he was questioning his own tenets; the ones he was most likely raised on.

“Animals? What if you had sex with a monkey, could you get her pregnant?”

“Nah, of course not. That’s stupid.”

“What if you had sex with a black woman, could you get her pregnant?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Well, what you are accepting is that if black people are animals and you could get that type of animal pregnant, then you are a monkey, too. You are an animal. We’re ALL animals.” He had no smart answer.

With every racist claim he made, I had a response. At one point, I asked him, “What if you were in a horrible accident and needed a blood transfusion and found out later you now have the blood of a black man inside. A BLACK MAN. A NEGRO. AN AFRICAN-AMERICAN. What would you do? Would you try to return it? Would you tell your card carrying KKK members that you are now tainted with the blood of an animal? Would they hang you from the highest tree?”

No responses to my queries made much sense. He didn’t necessarily agree with me, but I could tell he was grasping, if not absorbing, everything we were discussing. He really was trying to understand the other side. I brought up the “be they yellow, black or white, they are precious in his sight” song from Sunday School days of my youth. He knew the song, but many southern racists are born into religious families that adhere to odd and distorted interpretations of the Bible, as if Jesus was lily-white and black folk dangled from olive trees.

I asked him about black heroes who had saved plenty of white hide during the war, World War II in this case. A lot of us wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for good ol’ blackie.

The conversation had taken on a kind of flow. It was never a heated exchange and we showed each other respect. I couldn’t judge him for his status in life, but I surely did question his morals and prejudices with a vengeance. Our discussion began to wind down without ever really unwinding. The conversation had just taken its natural course. At the end, I had one final question to ask.

“What if we were on a deserted island — just you, me and a really good looking black woman…” Suddenly, the door opened up and a group of very good looking women sauntered in, one of whom was black. “HER!” I exclaimed, looking right at her. She didn’t see or hear a thing. “What if it was just you, her and me?”

“I’d kill YOU, not HER. A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.” I knew what he meant. Sex. Ain’t no way this dude was gonna go for me, Deliverance-style.

“You mean to tell me you’d kill a white man to save a black woman? Wait a minute. Doesn’t this go against your entire credo? People you’ve hated all your life? What would the KKK say about that? Kill a WHITE to save a BLACK?”

“You’re confusing me, man, you’re confusing me!” Aha! Gotcha, I thought to myself. “You know, you’re right.” he continued, “Yup, you are, but I’ll never tell my friends about it. I can’t. They’re my friends and they’d kill me.”

I guess I felt some satisfaction in thinking I had gotten through to the guy, but did I really? He had listened to enough, I reckon, and I’ll never know for sure.

“Thanks for the talk. Gotta go.” And off he went.

What surprised me the most was that the patrons sitting at the bar had listened intently to our conversation, unbeknownst to me. After the guy walked out the door and it shut behind him, they broke into a loud applause. They, too, thought that, maybe, just maybe, I had gotten through to him. Perhaps, I did, but that was then…

Occasionally, I think about him — the KKK man who sucks Marlboros for breakfast — the guy who returned to the hangin’ trees that only sway in the wind these days; back to the recollections of fiery crosses from days gone by. I hope and pray those days will one day be burned from all of our memories forever and that warm southern breezes of kinship will sweep through the minds of people like him everywhere. Gone with the wind.

We can still have a dream, can’t we?

 See it HERE or:

The Labors of Social Ostracization

IT’S ALIVE! IT’S ALIVE! IT’S ALIVE!

“Osterman’s book and TV spot, although well-intentioned, are ill-timed and done without input and NOT approved by the defense.”

So said a recent @gzlegalcase Tweet from the George Zimmerman Legal Case website in response to the release of Mark & Sondra Osterman’s book, Defending our Friend: the Most Hated Man in America. Mark and his wife are the Zimmermans’ closest friends. Mark considers George his brother. It’s much more than just a mere bromance. From Dr. Phil’s interview:

“George had pure ideals, a nobility of character that I admired. I kind of wanted to be like him,” Mark says. “When I first heard that George had shot someone else, I was extremely shocked. I know that it would have been the absolute last resort.”

I sense a rather strange relationship between Mark O’Mara and his client. I’m certain that the attorney begged his ticket to fame and fortune to refrain from going on The Sean Hannity Show to spill the latest version of his face-to-face with Trayvon Martin. I think Osterman, Zimmerman’s own personal zenmeister, coaxed his li’l grasshopper to take to the airways. Unfortunately, that particular outing did absolutely nothing to enhance his credibility, but I suspect it was God’s plan all along to show the world exactly what made this grasshopper hop. In that regard, Osterman succeeded, and so did God, I guess, because li’l grasshopper ended up winning the hearts of no one. But don’t tell the Ostermans.

That’s why I am inclined to believe that this new book revelation came with George and Shellie’s blessings. Another shot. Any opportunity li’l grasshopper has to expose his name to glaring lights and stardom, he’s all for it. Cha-cha-ching! After all, he took this shooting as his ticket to paradise, as he and his wife alluded to in a taped phone conversation during his initial incarceration at the Seminole County jail, as the money kept rolling in:

“After this is all over, you’re going to be able to just have a great life,” Shellie said.

“We will,” George replied. “I’m excited.”

“Yeah, you should be. You should be excited,” Shellie said. “I wish you were here, of course.”

“I will be,” he said.

“Isn’t it crazy how something like this just makes you put everything in perspective in life?” Shellie said. “It’s amazing how insignificant the things we stress out over are.”

“I agree,” he replied.

Imagine that. They both agreed that the shooting death of Trayvon Martin was so insignificant, it was nothing to “stress out” over. Why, even the second-degree murder charge was nothing but a farce, and this is a complete contradiction of what Osterman told Dr. Phil. Oh, how George cried and cried. What this illustrates to me is that Zimmerman looked up to Osterman as his iconic mentor; the man who would justify his need to be a top cop. While I’m never going to infer that the 28-year-old set out to shoot anyone that night, he had convinced himself that it was a right thing to do given the right circumstances. He was trained. It was pumped into him and he was primed. What better way than to set those circumstances up the right way? His way. This would make him Osterman’s equal. Yes, this was God’s plan; this was his destiny. Osterman would be proud. And in the end, he was.

While I could ostracize the air marshal, I won’t. He has no idea what kind of Frankenstein monster he helped create. He only saw his student’s docile side. Granted, Osterman was once fooled by a con man when he and another Seminole County sheriff’s deputy met Juan Diaz, who convinced them he was a second basemen for the New York Yankees. Sure, the guy took them to strip clubs flashing money, and Osterman ended up losing his job over it in 1998, but that was a long time ago. Certainly, he wouldn’t be deceived again. Would he?

I think so. But still, I won’t hold it against him. Not personally. Even in the 1931 horror movie, we could feel some compassion for Dr. Frankenstein, who didn’t set out to create evil, but in the end, he still came to the beast’s defense and lost whatever innocence was left. While I am convinced Osterman is a fool for believing Zimmerman’s alibis, we all tend to put faith in our friends; some more than others, and there remains that inherent element of naiveté. We want to think people are well-intended. How many professionals — doctors, lawyers, airline pilots and, yes, federal agents — find out their spouses have been cheating on them long, long after the fact? Let’s face it, Zimmerman is a natural born liar. While you may question Osterman on his judgment, I think I’ll be looking at something else that hit me like a brick; something he said on the Dr. Phil show. It may be meaningless, but still…

“When I first heard that George had shot someone else, I was extremely shocked.”

Someone else? Just how many people has George Zimmerman shot? That triggered my alarm. Where was Osterman’s safety when he was shooting his mouth off? Oh, that’s right, he doesn’t use one. Straight from the hip. Just like li’l grasshopper.

TO EACH THEIR OWN

Speaking of the monsters we create, it’s easy to see what can happen when people let things get out of hand. Caution is thrown into the wind and trouble flares. During the entire time I covered the Casey Anthony case, I watched people go from friendly and mild-mannered to as loony as they come, all in the name of justice for a little girl they didn’t even know. Don’t get me wrong, we all seek justice, but people vary on how intent they are to get it and how far they are willing to go to prove it is their way or the highway. Talk about standing your ground. What is often neglected is that it is up to the court system to decide, not the public, as we shockingly found out when the jury came back with their verdicts at the end of Casey’s trial. Interestingly, as adamant as people were throughout that ordeal, how quickly they moved on.

Because I had a popular blog, I was subject to a lot of scrutiny. I think there’s another blogger who is quite aware of that now. Out of the woodwork came bands of miscreants determined to shut me down. I was gay, I had AIDS, I was a convicted felon and so were my parents. I was a plant for the defense out to take down the sitting judge. One woman had her grandchildren chanting “Death to Marinade Dave!” and she proudly told others. Everyone who dared comment on my blog became targets for attack. One was supposed to be thrust into a snow bank and left to die. It was the most disgusting group of people I had ever run into in my life. Ironically, these very people prayed deeply to God that justice would come for Caylee while they hypocritically spewed hatred on people they didn’t know from Adam.

Here we are, at it again. With Zimmerman, there’s the race factor. There’s gun rights. Emotions are running quite high across a much broader spectrum. There’s politics; liberals against conservatives and Democrats against Republicans, not to mention the NRA and Second Amendment rights. There’s a $10,000 bounty on Zimmerman’s head, dead or alive. We are witnessing character assassinations of the “n”th degree, with “n” being the word that most folks should have thrown away with the dirty bath water they washed their mouths out with long ago. Once again, people are getting hurt in so many God-awful ways. Ironically, one blog opens their day with The Lord’s Prayer before their brood goes on a self-righteous rampage on everyone and anyone who stands in their path. Trayvon was a drug addicted thug dealer with a history of violence. Every single word that comes out of the mouth of George Zimmerman is the Gospel truth. Every word. Yet, they really know nothing about him.

This is my opinion. What they talk about over there is their business. While I certainly disagree with their opinions, they have a right to discuss the case the way they want, although I do draw the line on spreading falsehoods and, particularly in this day and age, republishing copyrighted artwork that’s licensed to someone else, especially when it’s pirated from the website they are attacking that actually paid for the work. This is a real war, folks, and people are going to get hurt.

CLICK TO IMAGE TO ENLARGE

There are also blogs that are intent on implicating others in the crime. We saw it with Roy Kronk during the Casey case. The poor guy was run through the ringer because he found Caylee’s body. Even Leonard Padilla claimed Kronk was involved in some sort of intricate daisy chain. Kronk placed the body there, not Casey. How sad that people who do good things are sometimes burned beyond recognition by a false story that’s so fiery to touch, it blinds some to the truth. Sadly, his life will never be the same. Almost a hero, he’s also seen as a villain.

Look at one of the rumors that’s made the rounds of late. Someone was in the vehicle with George Zimmerman the night of the killing. It was Frank Taaffe. No, it was Shellie. No, it was Mark Osterman. Whoever it was, it has become Gospel to those “fact” finders who choose to buy into it. They need no proof because, so it was written, so it must be true. Call it the Lemmings Doctrine.

The problem with this sort of missive is that it can destroy a person. No doubt, Frank Taaffe has his own monsters to fight, and he certainly needs no further encouragement to go off the deep end, so why push him off the edge? Is it fun to belittle a teetering man?

The fact is, George Zimmerman acted alone. All by himself, he pulled the trigger. Why try to include others? In his book, Mark Osterman wrote that Shellie was at her father’s house at the time of the shooting. She immediately called him while he was out walking his dog in his own neighborhood. He was never at the scene prior to the police showing up. Whether you choose to believe him or not is your own prerogative, but I base my opinion not on what he wrote. Instead, I use common sense, just like what generally guided me throughout the Casey Anthony case. I take my guidance through documentation, evidence and the State. Nothing points to anyone else. Not one shred of evidence.

For example, every piece of trash in the woods where Caylee’s body rested was not attributable to her. That old worn out tire did not come off her car. There was no proof the needle in the bottle ever touched her hands. The State of Florida never used it in any of their documents, and that’s where I put my faith. Nowhere in this present case has the State mentioned an accomplice at all, and until they do, the thought of it is not plausible.

In the meantime, we are not put here on this earth to make a mockery of others, are we? Take it from one who knows; one who’s experienced it — it’s not fun being the target of incessant, never ending ridicule, abuse and lies that lead nowhere but down, especially coming from people hiding behind some really strange faith in a god that not only encourages it, but seems to relish in it. That’s not my God, and it’s as much of a mockery of God as Zimmerman telling Sean Hannity that the shooting was God’s will. How ludicrous.

Tree hugger, Tray hugger, what’s the difference if it’s nothing more than a stupid mind game where all that matters is that YOU win? Plow into everyone in your path!

Cross Posted on The Daily Kos

The "Gratest" Show on Earth

I’m in the middle of researching the obvious — whether or not it’s feasible for the Zimmerman camp to file a motion to appeal Judge Lester’s order yesterday, to not recuse himself. I will look deeply into the logistics of such a move, but in the meantime, I want to give my old (and original) blog a shameless plug. Please take a peek. Meanwhile, isn’t this case starting to grate on your nerves?

FROM THE GALLERY…

Who would ever do such a thing?

Blackfields & McWhites, Part 1

“FBI may charge George Zimmerman with hate crime”

That was the heading of an online story published at the WFTV Website on Monday, May 14, 2012. WFTV-Channel 9 is the ABC network affiliate located in Orlando. The opening paragraph was very revealing in the sense of what it failed to do. It revealed nothing new or, for that matter, particularly newsworthy.

SANFORD, Fla. —  WFTV has learned charges against George Zimmerman could be getting more serious.

State prosecutors said Zimmerman, a neighborhood watchman, profiled and stalked 17-year-old Trayvon Martin before killing him, so the FBI is now looking into charging him with a hate crime.

What’s so strange about this kind of journalism is that it fuels the fire. It’s called baiting. While starting the article with a leading statement, WFTV has learned, it offers nothing new beyond what we didn’t already know. What, exactly, did WFTV learn, and what does the word could mean, as in the charges could be getting more serious? THAT’S NOT NEWS! IT’S GUESSING! The article later adds a revelation:

FBI investigators are actively questioning witnesses in the retreat at the Twin Lakes neighborhood, seeking evidence for a possible federal hate crime charge.

Of course they are! That goes without saying. If the FBI is investigating any crime, agents from the bureau routinely interview everyone in sight of the crime. And everywhere else, for that matter. The remainder of the story is nothing more than superfluous fluff, a term I last used early in the Casey Anthony case — long before the trial and, quite possibly, while critiquing another WFTV piece. You see, soon after I began writing about Caylee and her mother, I was reminded of how biased the news could really be. In college in the 1970s, I wrote an article, An unbiased look at news slants that explained how it’s done every day. I’ve republished it over the years (with improvements) and it’s an easy read. It describes how simple it is to write a news story in a manner that subtly offers an opinion.

While attending most of the Casey Anthony hearings beginning in October, 2009, I got a lot of advice from many of the local journalists covering the case. They were familiar with me and my work. It wasn’t just advice, though. There were rumblings going on in O’do, the unofficial slang word for Orlando. Was WFTV on State Attorney Lawson Lamar’s payroll or something? I mean, it took me no time at all to see how blatant it was that the station got the jump on stories coming out of the State, and nothing at all from the defense. It was apparent that WFTV was pro-prosecution, in my opinion, and I was far from alone in my thinking.

In many of the posts I wrote before covering the trial for Orlando magazine, I made my assertions clear about bias. How I know I was far from alone in this regard was because of the feedback I garnered from other journalists covering the case. What’s up with that station? I was asked. 

Here’s the deal. I’m not about ready to accuse a television news organization of unfair reporting. You are smart enough to figure it out yourself; but doesn’t it seem like the WFTV headline about charging George Zimmerman with a hate crime is a bit premature and racially baiting? The article contains no meat or any legs to stand on and it only serves to provoke the Trayvon Martin camp of supporters.

I don’t know. Perhaps May 15 was a slow news day around Orlando. It’s interesting to note that the story broke at 4:47 pm, just in time for the 5:00 o’clock news hour, and only one station reported it. Huh. Do you think it has anything to do with ratings?

(By the way, other news outlets reporting on the WFTV story don’t count.)

The Pyrrhic Victory of George Zimmerman

I try to avoid being controversial, but for those who don’t know me, seldom will I back away from something because it’s too sensitive an issue. Some things just irritate me to the point where I have to write about them.

In April of 2009, I published an article titled, Casey Anthony Must Die! Six months later, the presiding judge, Stan Strickland, called me to the bench to compliment my work for being fair to both sides; the prosecution and defense. Nearly a year after my article appeared, Casey’s defense team filed a motion demanding that the judge step down. They accused me of being pro-prosecution and based it on that post. Therefore, the judge was biased, but there’s no proof the judge had even read it. And had the defense team taken the time to actually read it, they would have known the title had little to do with Ms. Anthony’s demise. In fact, I thought it preposterous that 2,000 years ago, Romans crucified Christians for no other reason than their own pleasure, and here it was, 2,000 years later, that God-fearing Christians, of which there were many, wanted Casey’s head on a silver platter with no trial at all. It was the hypocrisy that riled me. Today, the hair is standing up on the back of my head. Again.

Teenagers are willing to take risks. It’s the nature of the beast. We need look no further than college campuses to see how far they are willing to go to have fun. Even high school kids do things we wouldn’t fathom as adults, but how quickly we forget that we were young once, too. Sometimes, kids break into their parents’ liquor cabinets and drive drunk. Sometimes, they just take risks for the thrill of it, like driving 100 miles-per-hour to find out how well they can take a sharp curve in the road. Who doesn’t think they have a full life ahead of them when they’re 17-years-old? Foolishness comes with the territory, and Trayvon Martin was a boy, not a man.

I have spoken to adults about real-life incidents like the above examples. When a thrill-seeking teenage boy slams his vehicle into an oak tree, killing him and a few of his best friends, I have been told that, while being a terrible shame, those kids, especially the driver, got what they deserved for being so selfish, silly, stupid and sinful. They should spend the rest of eternity in Hell; all based on one fatal mistake made at a time in life when the brain is far from being fully developed. Who cares what they could have grown up to be?

Take Trayvon Martin. He was suspended from school for 10 days for having a plastic baggy in his possession that contained trace amounts of marijuana. Sure, he was wrong, but so are many other people dating back as far as I can remember, and at pushing 60, I can tell you a lot about the Hippie days of my youth. Did he deserve to die because of it? Absolutely not, but you wouldn’t know it by the remarks made by many people on various blogs, forums and other places where venting is allowed regarding the tragedy that took Trayvon’s young life and what led up to it. As a matter of fact, one such person wrote that it was bad parenting that caused the boy’s death. He should have known better than to walk outside in a world filled with hoodlums. In fact, he was one of them. Of course, the fact that Trayvon walked all the way to a 7-Eleven store and back unscathed had no bearing whatsoever on George Zimmerman’s act of holding up the fort of his own gated community, according to that commenter. To serve and to protect. Oh wait… you have to be a cop to say that, and it’s bad enough for Trayvon’s parents right now without laying another guilt trip on them. It was their fault. Imagine that!

Today, this unfortunate event has spurred all sorts of non-violent social and political unrest, although it has calmed since Zimmerman’s arrest. It’s pitted whites against blacks and blacks against whites in something that needn’t be racial at all except for the perception by some that the Sanford Police Department swept it under the rug for that very reason. I don’t know about that, but I can certainly understand why civil rights leaders attached themselves to this case and how it never would have gotten this far had it not been for the dedication of attorney Ben Crump and others who were willing to keep pressing. This is not just about one boy. It is about the fear of every parent of color living in a predominantly white society. Sadly, it’s also split conservative and liberal values and reaved Republicans and Democrats when this should be nothing more than an issue of justice — plain and simple; and justice comes from a courtroom and nowhere else.

Until this plays out in court, we will continue to argue over truths, half-truths and lies. Factual information will become so distorted that we end up knowing nothing. I saw firsthand how convoluted the facts became throughout the Anthony case, from the beginning to the end. People fought like cats and dogs over a family they didn’t even know. Friendships were lost, smear campaigns took hold, and in the end, nothing was gained. Not even a conviction.

Here we are again. Another tragedy and so much at stake. Tell me, will I lose your friendship today? I hope not, and for the sake of argument, I will readdress a timeline I published one week ago. According to Trayvon’s father, Tracy Martin, and from what investigators told him, George Zimmerman said that he began following the boy and in no time, Trayvon walked over to his truck.

“Why are you following me?” Trayvon asked.

“I’m not following you,” Zimmerman responded after rolling down his window.

Here’s where it falls apart:

7:04 PM:  Trayvon received a phone call from his girlfriend.

7:08 PM:  Trayvon’s phone call with his girlfriend ended.

7:09 PM:  Zimmerman spotted Trayvon while sitting in his truck and called the non-emergency police number. Log records showed the incoming call was received at 7:09:34 PM.

7:10:35 PM: Zimmerman told the dispatcher that Martin was coming toward him.

At no time during this period did Zimmerman say anything to the dispatcher about a verbal exchange between the two, while seated in his truck, nor is there any record of it on the phone call. As a matter of fact, Zimmerman said the boy was running away. This may have had something to do with why a charge was filed. Almost simultaneously, Trayvon was walking toward him and running away, and no verbal exchange took place.

7:11:48 PM: Dispatcher asked Zimmerman which way Martin was running. This is when he exits his truck.

7:12 PM:  Trayvon’s girlfriend called him back.

7:13 PM:  Zimmerman said his truck was parked at a cut-through. 15 seconds later, he lost sight of Trayvon.

It’s very important to note that Zimmerman was in his vehicle until he got out and chased after Trayvon. The dispatcher warned him against doing so upon hearing wind resistance from the cell phone.

7:13:41 PM: Zimmerman ended his call to the dispatcher.

Meanwhile, Trayvon was still on the phone with his girlfriend.

7:15 - 7:16 PM: Trayvon told his girlfriend he thinks he lost the guy. She then heard voices:

Trayvon: Why are you following me?

Zimmerman: What are you doing here?”

Trayvon’s phone cut out at 7:16 (approximate.) His girlfriend said it sounded like the phone was dropped. Who hit who first is a big issue, but it does seem Trayvon got the upper hand.

7:16:11 PM: First of seven 9-1-1 calls came in. A high-pitched male voice is heard screaming for help, and then…

7:16:56 PM: A GUNSHOT IS HEARD.

According to the initial police report, officers Ricardo Ayala and Timothy Smith arrived on the scene at 7:17 PM, seconds after the fatal shot.

When interviewed by the police, Zimmerman was unaware that Martin was on the phone with someone who would offer up a different account. So were the investigators.

What is so sad about this is that people are making up their own facts to suit their versions of events. Of course, the events are mostly based on what we’ve learned from the media and each side’s support group made up of friends and relatives, plus some eye and earwitness accounts. In truth, Trayvon Martin and George Zimmerman did not exchange words early on or it would have been recorded. By his own admission to the dispatcher, he reported seeing this boy walking, looking strange and on drugs or something before there was any interaction, and no confrontation while in his truck occurred as he described to the police, if Tracy Martin’s account from investigators rings true.

As far as I’m concerned, all I want is the truth, so help me God. Just give me some truth. Whatever transpired leading up to Trayvon’s death, it had to have happened within the final minute after his cell phone fell silent and that’s all there is to it. One person’s account of events is not adding up.

Aside from a tragic death and the family devastated by it, this will be no picnic for George Zimmerman. For lack of a better way of expressing it in words, he may have won the battle that fateful night of February 26, but the war is far from over. The heavy cost of winning that battle was astronomical, and the horrible consequences now following George are destroying him from within. He will never have a reason to celebrate, even if he beats the second-degree murder charge in court. There will be no sense of achievement, and that, my friends, describes a Pyyrhic victory to a tee. Ad victorem spolias. Just ask the Romans.

I strongly encourage you to read Trayvon Martin: Before the world heard the cries by Daniel Trotta.

The National Rally for Justice on behalf of Trayvon Martin

I attended the rally for Trayvon Martin last Thursday, March 22, in Sanford. I chose to go because I truly believe Trayvon Martin was murdered. I don’t believe George Zimmerman ever set out to kill anyone that day or any other time, but a teenager is dead and he alone is responsible. 

The Stand Your Ground law does not give citizens the right to kill on a whim. You cannot be the aggressor and use the law as an excuse. In truth George Zimmerman stalked a child.

Jeffrey Toobin is an attorney, author and legal analyst. On the slate.com Website, Toobin states, “Trayvon saw someone following him, felt threatened, retreated, was still followed, and then was approached by an armed man who had 100 lbs on him. … Because Zimmerman was acting as an aggressor, Trayvon had the right to defend himself by punching, kicking, tackling, etc. Because Zimmerman was acting as the aggressor, his actions cannot be considered self-defense: you can’t initiate and then claim self-defense. The evidence for initiation is there on the 911 tape. … Why is it that a black man cannot be afraid of a white man who follows and approaches him on a street at night?”

A lot of trashtalk is coming out on Trayvon now. Some of it may be true, but it still means nothing to me. Zimmerman may not be guilty of a hate crime, but that doesn’t mean he’s innocent in the 17-year-old’s death.

I will be posting more articles in the coming days, but first, the following is a video I put together of 50 of the 141 photographs that I took at the National Rally for Justice on behalf of Trayvon Martin. Please watch it and if you feel like it, let me know what you think. Right now, I’ve got 50 pictures to post on my blog, but not on my front page. I’ll post a link to it when it’s up.

CLICK HERE TO SEE ALL PHOTOGRAPHS

As The World Burns

Brad Benson is the owner of a Hyundai car dealership in South Brunswick, NJ. In 2003, he offered Saddam Hussein a brand spanking new car if he would flee Iraq. That advertising campaign wasn’t successful and he pulled the ad after it ran only two days, replacing it with an apology for any offense that may have been taken by anyone, Muslim or otherwise.

To give you a little background, in the 1980’s, Benson established himself as an offensive lineman for the NY Giants, having played there for 12 seasons. Today, he is better known around the state for running his “Idiot Award” ads, where he’s singled out celebrities like Roger Clemens, Mel Gibson and Lindsay Lohan.

“We don’t have your typical car commercial,” he said, and to be frank, they have been quite effective. Three years ago, he was selling about 60 cars each month. Today, in spite of the present economy, that number has grown to over 500 cars per month.

The following story caught my attention for several reasons. I’m originally from NJ, having spent the first half of my life there, so I have a special connection with the state. Since 1981, I’ve lived in Florida, and this year, I had the opportunity to attend two University of Florida Gator football games thanks to the generosity and hospitality of a wonderful lady. She was born and raised in Gainesville, where the spectacle of pastor Terry Jones was met with great consternation. Jones, if you recall, had threatened to burn thousands of Qurans, the Muslim holy book, on September 11, in protest over plans to build a mosque and Islamic center two blocks away from Ground Zero, in lower Manhattan. Jones was never a fixture in Gainesville, and his self-titled “International Burn a Koran Day” became a conflagration of horrible proportion. He’s a total embarrassment to the sensible inhabitants of the respectable university town, where common sense prevails over opportunistic sensationalism and overzealous preachers of literal biblical translations.

Enter Brad Benson. In the midst of the international debacle,  he offered Terry Jones a new car if he promised to not burn one single Quran. Of course, September 11 came and went and no books were burned, but that was more than likely due to President Barack Obama’s very public urging, along with a phone call from Defense Secretary Robert Gates and a statement by Gen. David Petraeus, head of the U.S. mission in Afghanistan, who said that carrying out the plan would endanger American troops.

“I just didn’t think that was a good thing for our country right now,” Benson said about the Quran burning. Levelheadedness won out and the residents of Gainesville were able to breathe sighs of relief. Jones has since indicated that he will move away from the area, along with his flock from the Dove World Outreach Center. Hallelujah!

Meanwhile, a representative for Jones called Brad Benson’s car dealership to collect the 2011 Hyundai Accent, which retails for $14,200. At first, the dealer thought it was a hoax. “They said unless I was doing false advertising, they would like to arrange to pick up the car,” so he asked for a copy of Jones’s driver’s license. The reverend complied.

Of course, Jones told the Associated Press last Thursday that the offer of a car was not the reason why he chose not to burn the Muslim holy books. He said he hadn’t learned about the deal until after September 11.

Prior to making the determination, Benson asked his radio audience to help him decide whether to honor his promise. Over 2,600 people responded and the vast majority said he needed to keep his word. Views ran the gamut. One person suggested painting the car with verses from the Quran, the Talmud and the King James version of the Bible.

After the feedback, he said he decided to give Jones the car outright because he didn’t want to be connected to anything the pastor decides to do with it. “I don’t want to be involved in the politics of that.”

In the end, Terry Jones said he was not going to profit from the car. “We’re not keeping the car for ourselves.” Instead, he said he plans to donate it to an organization that helps abused Muslim women. Good luck finding one. Although the effort looks good on paper and in the media, it shows how out of touch the preacher is with the world and sharia, where many interpretations of Islamic law “are used to justify cruel punishments such as amputation and stoning as well as unequal treatment of women in inheritance, dress, and independence.”¹

If Jones can’t find an organization, perhaps he can establish one for abused Muslim women. If he does, let’s just pray that no one comes along and burns it to the ground with women, children and Qurans inside. By Muslims. How sad and ironic that would be.

Story collected from AP wire service