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T he D ying G ame
C on tin u ed from th e cover
I
couldn’t help but think that she’s (Ellis] 54
years old and had been dating a woman for
12 years— isn’t that sick? That’s someone’s
grandma for God’s sake,” Acremant told inves
tigators. “Could you imagine my grandma a les
bian with another woman? I couldn’t believe
that. It crossed my mind a couple of times—
lesbo grandma, what a thing, huh?”
O n Oct. 27, 1997, a jury sentenced Acre
mant to death for the double murder. The deci
sion was automatically referred to the Oregon
Supreme Court for an appeal.
Last month, the court rejected Acremant’s
second effort to represent himself in the appeal.
Richard Haymes, executive director of the
New York City Gay and Lesbian Anti-Violence
Project added: “As a victim services agency
dealing with the physical and psychological
aftermath of hatred against the lesbian, gay,
bisexual, transgender and HIV-positive commu
nity— our community— AVP understands full
well the thirst for vengeance that heinous bias
crimes often engender in the victim, his or her
loved ones, and the community at large. How
ever, as a human rights organization, AVP also
views capital punishment as an act of state-
sanctioned violence— an act that is no more or
T
he death penalty has snagged a lot of atten
tion of late.
O n Feb. 24, Betty Lou Beets,
a grandmother, became the
121st person executed in Texas
since Gov. George W. Bush—
possibly this country’s next pres
ident— took office in 1995.
On Jan. 31, meanwhile, Illi
nois Gov. George Ryan placed a
moratorium on all executions until it can be
determined whether all the state’s Death Row
inmates are in fact guilty.
And Italian clothing manufacturer Benetton
has been embroiled in a brouhaha for its recent
anti-death-penalty ad campaign called “We, on
Death Row,” a gushy concoction of glam shots
and interviews with two dozen Death Row
inmates, including four on Oregon’s strip.
Benetton’s campaign has provoked repulsion
from some victims’ families and others sickened
by the perceived puffery.
llis and Abdill, Brandon Teena, Barry
Winchell, Matthew Shepard, Billy Jack
G aither...
The queer community has seen some of its
members shot, bludgeoned, burned and beaten.
And it won’t be the last time, either.
Given that, does the community feel invest
ed in the debate over capital punishment? On
the national level, perhaps.
Shepard’s murder galvanized some gay orga
nizations to take a formal stand on the issue,
most for the first time. One year ago, a national
coalition of queer rights groups issued a joint
statement strongly denouncing the death penal
ty. The action was spawned by prosecutors’ deci
sion to seek the death penalty in the cases of
Russell Henderson and Aaron McKinney, who
were eventually convicted of killing Shepard, a
gay college student whose murder garnered
worldwide attention.
The coalition included Lambda Legal De
fense and Education Fund, the Lesbian and Gay
Rights Project of the American Civil Liberties
Union, the National Gay and Lesbian Task
Force, and the National Latina/o LG BT Orga
nization.
Among other points, members argued that
the death penalty is disproportionately applied
to poor people and people of color, is too expen
sive, and fails to be an effective deterrent against
violent crime.
“The death penalty is applied in an in
equitable way, and when factors of race, sexual
orientation and income are taken into account,
there is even more inequity. Mistakes happen
and innocent people are sentenced to death. In
those circumstances where the sentence has
been carried out, the mistake cannot be
reversed,” said Kevin McGruder, executive
director of Gay Men of African Descent.
E
Robert Acremant is on Oregon’s Death
Row for the murders of Rqxanne Ellis and
Michelle Abdill (inset)
less violent than the barbaric acts of our attack
ers— and we unequivocally oppose violence in
every form, regardless of the perpetrator.”
But one group begged to differ.
In January 1999, Log Cabin Republicans, a
gay and lesbian GOP organization, dispatched a
letter to queer publications nationwide that
said, in part: "We were disheartened to read of
growing sentiment among gay activists calling
for prosecutors to seek a reduced punishment for
Matthew Shepard’s killers. They are forgetting
the crucial importance of ensuring that gay
Americans receive full justice under the laws of
this country, without exception.... Punishing
his killers to the fullest extent of the law will
send an unmistakable message to every gay
basher in America that they had better think
twice before trying it, or they will face the ham
mer of justice. Nothing could speak louder to
the purveyors of hate.”
o here we are today, with a lesbian killer on
Oregon’s Death Row. Do queers in this state
care one way or the other?
Some Oregonians do, and they’ve formed
Life for a Life, a coalition headed up by former
U.S. Sen. Mark Hatfield.
The group is promoting a proposed constitu
tional amendment to abolish the death penalty,
swapping it for mandatory life sentences without
possibility of parole. It must collect 89,048 valid
signatures by July 7 to qualify the initiative for
the November ballot.
Oregon’s death penalty was reinstated in
1984. Two men have been executed during the
past 16 years, and 25 others are currently on
Death Row. Three of those inmates are ethnic
minorities— two Hispanics and one Native
American.
S
Capital punishment foe Sister Helen Pre
jean, author of Dead M an Walking— which
became the acclaimed movie of the same name
starring Susan Sarandon and Sean Penn__was
in Portland in early February trying to spark
interest in Life for a Life, which thus far has
failed to stir the passions of the masses.
“I think it’s a nonissue for a lot of people,”
surmises the Rev. Roy Cole, pastor of Metropol
itan Community Church of Portland.
His denomination, he believes, has not
taken an official stance on capital punishment.
Still, he says, “As a person of faith I am dis
tressed by the death penalty. State-sanctioned
violence doesn’t facilitate the goal toward a
peaceful society.”
Trans activist Lori Buckwalter adds: "You do
want to send a message that there are conse
quences, but not necessarily a consequence of a
particular kind”— i.e., the death penalty.
Kelley Weigel is the co-director of Rural
Organizing Project, a network of dozens of local
human dignity groups throughout Oregon. ROP
has bolstered a variety of social justice causes,
from economic fairness to racial equality.
“There seems to be more momentum to take
a stand on this,” says Weigel. “Perhaps that con
versation should start now from an organiza
tional perspective.”
Cecil Prescod of Brother to Brother, a Port-
land-area association of gay and bisexual
African American men, says his group has not
addressed the issue, though he believes that as
the initiative campaign heats up more organiza
tions may take a closer look at capital punish
ment.
“I think if Brother to Brother did take any
kind of position, it would be because the death
penalty is disproportionately applied to people
of color, not necessarily because it’s a queer
issue,” he says.
Both Weigel and Prescod suggest that a
social justice movement can be strengthened
when people and their myriad causes link
together.
“Then we’re talking about human rights,”
Prescod says.
But others say gay groups might want to stick
to specifically gay-related issues.
Portland attorney Jerry Keene, who was on
the Log Cabin Republicans board that crafted
the Shepard letter, says: “Personally, I’ve always
said that we should advocate for gay issues— not
that alliances aren’t important— but we should
keep focused on our common goals rather than
finding ways to divide ourselves.”
Maura Roche of Basic Rights Oregon, the
state’s largest gay and lesbian political organiza
tion, says that’s essentially BR O ’s formula as
well.
“We tend to focus our energy and resources
on issues related to sexual orientation,” she tells
Just Out.
Yet, while BR O has no position on the death
penalty, it does posture in favor of reproductive
freedoms.
“T hat’s true. We have a position on choice,
Roche concedes. “I think that’s because [gay
rights] and choice are closely tied to having con
trol over your body and civil liberties.”
eople secure healing in different ways. Lorri
Ellis, daughter of Roxanne, told reporters
she wanted to see Acremant get the death
penalty.
Meanwhile, during McKinney’s trial, Dennis
Shepard, father of Matthew, told the court:
“Matt believed that there were incidents and
crimes that justified the death penalty.... L too>
believe in the death penalty. I would like noth
ing better than to see you die, Mr. McKinney.
However, this is the time to begin the healing
process. To show mercy to someone who refused
to show any mercy. To use this as the first step in
my own closure about losing Matt.”
Notes M C C ’s Cole: “This is not an easy
issue”
P
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