HBFF President Otis Jordan and Activist, Deric Muhammad appear on New York City's Harlem 411 Radio Broadcast

The base of support for the plight of the Houston Black Firefighters Association was expanded when Otis Jordan and Deric Muhammad took to the airwaves of New York City to inform New Yorkers about what's going on in the Houston Fire Department and promote the highly anticipated July 28th Rally at Houston City Hall.

KTSU 90.9 RADIO STATION HOSTS OTIS JORDAN AND FRIENDS

Otis Jordan, HBFFA President, addresses KTSU listeners concerning problems at HFD and the upcoming rally at Houston City Hall on July 28th.


Retired Houston Firefighter, Alvin James, challenges other retired firefighters to get out of their comfort zone.


KTSU Morning radio host, Lauren, interviews Houston Black Firefighters Association.

The students at Texas Southern University and the listenership of it's affiliated radio station, KTSU, were addressed by members of the Houston Black Firefighters Association and myself (Deric Muhammad)on Tuesday July 14th. We discussed the upcoming July 28th rally to put out the "Flames of Racism" and why it is important that the youth get involved in the movement to eradicate racism, among other topics. KTSU morning host, Lauren, asked questions centered around solutions to the problems that Jordan and James gave critical answers to. These two and others are trying to make the Houston Fire Department a dignified place to work for future generations like students at TSU. Great interview. Keep up the good work KTSU!

"D MAGAZINE" presents: The Last Temptation of Craig Watkins: Dallas County's first Black District Attorney (Part I)

The Last Temptation of Craig Watkins

The only black district attorney in Texas has won fame for breaking barriers and freeing innocent men. But can he overcome his enemies—and his own thin skin?

by Zac Crain
Published 2.23.2009

Craig Watkins’ office high atop the Frank Crowley Courts Building, there is a small table nestled against the front of his desk, flanked on either side by a black leather chair. On the table there are three books: A Call to Conscience: The Landmark Speeches of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.; The Pursuit of Happyness, Chris Gardner’s Will Smith-approved memoir of his journey from homelessness to Wall Street; and Doing Justice: A Prosecutor’s Guide to Ethics and Civil Liability (second edition). Atop the books sits a short stack of recent issues of Jet magazine.

Nothing would seem to sum up the last two years of Watkins’ life so neatly as that little table. A district attorney (Doing Justice) who, though he has faced long odds and is often underestimated (The Pursuit of Happyness), strives for a significant change in The Way Things Are Done (A Call to Conscience). Oh, and he’s black (Jet). But it’s not that simple.

Wrongly Imprisoned, James Woodard Rediscovers FreedomWatkins, 41, is full of contradictions. He has the resolve to take on decades of history, the legacy of one of the most well-known DAs in America (Henry Wade), and an entire criminal justice system. But he’s also so sensitive that he can’t help but recall slights suffered on the campaign trail more than two years ago, the kind of rearview-mirror business that shouldn’t bother a man bent on progress. He’s helplessly showy at times and can be immodest. He is, after all, the first black DA in Texas history. Yet his biggest fear is being trapped by his own celebrity, tripping over his own press clippings and highlight reels. With DNA testing, Dallas County has freed more wrongly convicted men than anywhere else in the country, and last year 60 Minutes gave Watkins much of the credit.

In short, he is just a man. A man with a powerful position and, on the right day, history at his back—but still a man, with flaws and foibles like all the rest. He’s a work in progress. He’s still figuring it all out. In just six months, the time it took to report this story, I saw the evolution of Craig Watkins.


Watkins is a big guy, 6-foot-5 and broad, and he carries himself so that not an inch or pound is unaccounted for. When he enters his office and deposits himself into one of those leather chairs next to the table, he sinks into his seat like a bored king, weighing his chin in one giant paw, his legs jutting out like flying buttresses. While we’re here: his skin isn’t caramel-colored. It’s black. The color of coffee with no cream. Even today, that color puts some people on edge, scares them just a little bit.

It’s May 21, 2008. It’s been 506 days since Watkins took office. The narrative that took shape when he ran for district attorney in 2002 (against Bill Hill), and again in 2006, has been added onto substantially, of course, in the intervening years, given all that has happened since. But the core of it—the origin story, if you will—remains unchanged. It says that Watkins was a political neophyte who came out of nowhere, riding the tide of a motivated Democratic base. He did not win so much as the Republicans were defeated. It could have been anyone. Watkins was a cipher, a warm body, a name on the ballot at the right place and time.

Part of this is true. The Democratic base was motivated in 2006. But though Watkins was unknown north of I-30, he was no stranger to politics or local government. His uncle Ted Watkins, who passed away in November, was a four-term president of the Dallas chapter of the NAACP. His aunt Deborah Watkins is the city secretary. His cousin Kurt Watkins is the head of the communications committee for the Dallas County Young Democrats.

“I think the southern sector always knew him,” Kurt says. “Black Dallas knew who Craig Watkins was 10 years ago. In South Dallas, the Watkins name is a big deal.”

When he won the job of Dallas County district attorney, Watkins became the first black man to hold that position in this or any other county in Texas. At the time, he knew he was breaking new ground at home, but he didn’t find out that distinction applied statewide until the day he was sworn in, when state Sen. Royce West mentioned the fact in a speech after the ceremony. Watkins knew he was making history; he just didn’t know how much.

“I didn’t even think about it from that standpoint,” he says. “So that really gave me an idea of what all this meant. I had a responsibility—not just for Dallas, but for the state—to address some of the ills of our criminal justice system. Just to make it better.”

And so the man who campaigned on a platform of reform has slowly come to realize that one of the things in the district attorney’s office that needs to change is—him.

“If you look at Martin Luther King, when he gave that speech in Alabama during the bus boycott, when he was first put on the national scene to head the civil rights movement, you look at him as a person, and you read his writings and speeches, and you see he evolved into the position,” he says. His heavily lidded eyes flicker toward the table and A Call to Conscience. “I don’t think he knew what he was getting into. I don’t think Barack Obama knew what he was getting into. Hell, I didn’t know what I was getting into. I think at some point you evolve into it and you realize that this is a lot larger than you personally.”

He’s still clearly in the early stages of that evolutionary process. When he speaks—which he does in a surprisingly high voice that’s lightly coated in black vernacular; he always says “querstion” instead of “question,” and sometimes opts for “axe” instead of “ask”—it’s apparent that Watkins is still taking things very personally. He can’t let things go. Though some would attribute his status as one of the most prominent district attorneys in the country to a series of star-making profiles (in the New York Times and Texas Monthly and, most notably, the 60 Minutes segment devoted to him on May 4) that appeared in the wake of the unprecedented number of DNA exonerations emerging from Dallas County, Watkins isn’t as cozy with the fourth estate as that publicity would suggest, especially locally. In March, a series of stories ran in the Dallas Morning News about his alleged improper use of a county car, which followed close on the heels of the collective smirk that greeted his theatrical unveiling of newly discovered documents related to the JFK assassination (the documents turned out to be nothing more than a curiosity). But what sticks in his mind is what happened before he was elected.

“I think they have to make up for all the things they did to me when I was running,” he says. He was embarrassed to walk through the halls of his sons’ school, he says, worried that the other parents and teachers had read the stories that, he says, portrayed him as a criminal and incompetent. Every bit of negative press since then has picked at that scab, never letting it fully heal. His sensitivity used to be even more acute. At least he has stopped commenting on every blog post tagged “Craig Watkins.” “At this point, I’ve realized that I can’t sit around and respond to all the things they write about me,” he says. “That’s part of the evolution.”



But he can’t help himself. He would rather be talking about his work with the Innocence Project of Texas and his new conviction integrity unit and the men who were wrongly imprisoned that he helped free. But Watkins’ conversational GPS is broken. No matter what destination he chooses, his aggravation keeps him circling back to those old Morning News stories.

“I come into office under this big microscope, which I understand,” he says. “But all these other folks that had been in this position, you never challenged them. As a result of that, we’ve got all these exonerations. Had the fake drug scandal. Had a DA [Bill Hill] give $1 million away of money that I should be using for the benefit of the citizens of Dallas County. That was never questioned. Giving $400,000 to a special prosecutor on the fake drug scandal, in December, right after I was elected, two years after the fact. And then he’s over there partners with them.” True enough, Bill Hill works with former special prosecutor Dan Hagood at his criminal defense firm, Fitzpatrick Hagood Smith & Uhl. So does Toby Shook, the prosecutor Watkins beat out for the DA job. “No one asks any questions about that. But you’re gonna question me, ask if I’m doing something wrong, say that I’m morally challenged? That’s what upsets me about politics.” (to be continued) (view the article in it's entirety at www.dmagazine.com)

NEWSWEEK MAGAZINE: Problems in Paris, Texas

(Jackie McClelland at the crime scene where her son was murdered)

By: Gretel Kovach and Arian Campo=Flores

To his loved ones in Paris, Texas, Brandon McClelland was affectionately known as "Big Boy," a 284-pound gentle giant. He was a devoted family man—babysitting his little cousins, caring for his mother after she suffered a stroke and a heart attack, cooking up dishes of "Mexican spaghetti" for his disabled grandmother. He had a large circle of friends and regularly invited them over to play dominoes and to barbecue in the front yard. He always looked out for them, making sure the ones who had a little too much to drink got home safely. Though he was African-American, he didn't pay much attention to race. He had acquaintances of all colors, and, in fact, his best friend was a white girl he met at church.

One day last September, McClelland, 24, went to work hanging Sheetrock with two other white friends, Shannon Finley and Charles Ryan Crostley, both 27. When they finished, the three men went out drinking and, later that night, decided to go on a beer run in Finley's pickup truck. What ensued is unclear, but McClelland never returned. Just before dawn, Texas troopers found his mangled corpse on a deserted country road miles away from Paris. His head was cracked open, and his body was dismembered and partially disemboweled. Finley and Crostley told authorities that the three had argued about whether Finley was too drunk to drive—at which point McClelland exited the truck, and they drove off. But prosecutors allege that the two intentionally ran over McClelland, whose girth caused him to get lodged in the undercarriage and dragged along. In December Finley and Crostley were indicted for murder. (Both men have pleaded not guilty and are in jail awaiting a trial expected to start this spring.)

As someone with such a conciliatory soul, McClelland might shudder at the racial tempest his death has provoked. Long-simmering tensions in Paris have flared anew, with African-Americans accusing law enforcement of mishandling the McClelland investigation and whites complaining that out-of-town opportunists are inciting conflict. In November, a courthouse protest drew representatives of the New Black Panther Party, the Nation of Islam and the NAACP on one side and white, Bible-waving hecklers and a self-identified grand titan of the Ku Klux Klan on the other. Things have reached such a nadir that the Justice Department has deployed its Community Relations Service—a sort of civil-rights SWAT team —to mediate discussions among Paris residents. "This town is being forced to look at things they never wanted to look at before," says Brenda Cherry, who lives in Paris and cofounded Concerned Citizens for Racial Equality.

Yet it's not at all clear that race even played a role in McClelland's death. He and the two defendants were close and had no known history of racial discord. "They were the best of friends," says Vickie Finley, Shannon's mother. "All my children and grandchildren thought the world of Brandon." In an act of supreme loyalty, McClelland even tried to help Finley avoid prison once. In 2003, Finley shot and killed another friend (who was white) in what he claimed was an accident as he tried to defend himself against two supposed assailants. McClelland attempted to cover for him by providing police with a false alibi; he ended up convicted of perjury and served a two-year sentence (Finley served three years for manslaughter).

McClelland may have been a victim of drunken rage more than racial animosity. According to an arrest affidavit, Finley admitted to a friend that he intentionally ran over McClelland and dragged him for about 40 feet. Finley then circled back and saw McClelland's mutilated body and pools of blood in the roadway, the affidavit states; he and Crostley later went to a car wash to clean the truck. But apparently they didn't do a very thorough job: investigators found human blood in numerous spots on the pickup's underside. Later that day, the two went to visit McClelland's mother, Jacquline, and offered the same version of events they'd given troopers—that there had been an argument, that McClelland had exited the truck and that they'd driven off. But Finley wouldn't look her in the eye, Jacquline tells NEWSWEEK. He tried to hug her, she says, but she refused. "I got the coldest feeling come over me," she recalls. "It let me know right there, he killed my child." (Attorneys for both defendants maintain their clients' innocence but declined to discuss the case.)

Though race may not have contributed to McClelland's death, it quickly dominated debate in the aftermath. That's not surprising, given the town's turbulent racial history. Paris was the site of some of the country's most notorious lynchings after Reconstruction. At the county courthouse, a towering statue commemorates "Our Heroes" of the Confederate Army, and plaques mark the location of former "Negro"-only toilets. Two years ago, Paris drew national media scrutiny for the story of Shaquanda Cotton. A black, 14-year-old freshman with no arrest record, she was sentenced to as much as seven years in juvenile detention for shoving a teacher's aide. About the same time, though, a white student who admitted to arson received only probation. The disparity galvanized many of the town's African-Americans, who account for about one fifth of the 26,000 residents. Cherry, the Concerned Citizens founder, and Lone Star Legal Aid, a nonprofit law firm, had compiled statistics showing that the Paris school district punished black kids eight times more often than white ones, even though blacks make up a minority of the population (the U.S. Department of Education, however, ruled that there wasn't enough evidence to attribute the discrepancy to racism).

That context framed the response to McClelland's case. Many African-Americans immediately called the incident a hate crime, comparing it to the dragging death of James Byrd in Jasper, Texas, a decade ago. Some townspeople argue that troopers conducted the initial investigation carelessly because of McClelland's race. "The attitude is, 'It's some black kid. Oh, well, no big deal'," says Sharon Reynerson, an attorney with Lone Star Legal Aid who has been following the case closely. When Jacquline and an entourage visited the scene of her son's death several days after it occurred, they were shocked to find pieces of what they considered important evidence, including empty beer cans and bone fragments, which they preserved for possible use at trial. (A spokeswoman for the Texas Department of Public Safety says she is unable to comment on specifics of the case.)

Now blacks are pointing to other examples of alleged racial harassment or inequality. Last spring, for instance, an African-American man accused of sexual assault found graffiti outside his apartment threatening him to MOVE OUT N––––R OR DIE, WHICH was signed KKK. In a more recent incident, says Cherry, two white men who broke into a home and allegedly stabbed a black man who was staying there were only charged with burglary. (The police report mentions only an "assault," not a stabbing.)

Many whites in town consider such examples aberrations. Allegations of unequal justice are being fueled by misinformed gossip, says Gary Young, the Lamar County district attorney, who recused himself from the McClelland case because he represented Finley in his manslaughter case. In his four years on the job, he notes, no convicted murderer has been sentenced to less than 35 years—white or black. Mayor Jesse James Freelen says: "We need to quit pointing the finger" and focus on dialogue. But "I think we're really heading in the right direction." A new exhibit on African-American history at the county historical society explores the area's brutal legacy of lynching. And a year-old Paris Diversity Task Force is bringing together black ministers, county officials, law enforcement and civil-rights activists to work through racial matters.

Last Thursday evening, more than 100 people gathered at the Paris fairgrounds—the town's historic lynching post—for the third community dialogue on race sponsored by the Justice Department. At times, the gathering grew contentious. A young African-American woman from the New Black Panther Party's Dallas branch seized the microphone to complain about her alleged mistreatment in Paris. "We've never burned a cross on anybody's front lawn!" she shouted. "We've never lynched anybody!" Later, however, Vanessa Preston, 53 and black, said: "Yes, Paris has problems … But I am proud, damn proud of this little town." Throughout the discussion, many residents struck a pacifying tone. "If we don't have love in our hearts and understanding," said Rexi Stamper, 56 and white, "there is no way we can bridge the gaps." McClelland would undoubtedly have agreed.

JENA SIX Defendant Mychal Bell Attempts Suicide:

Posted to the left is a photo of myself and Sis. Sadiyah X visiting Jena Six defendant, Mychal Bell, the day after his release from jail in 2007. I remember us warning him that every move that he made in the future would be scrutinized, because many wanted to ultimately prove that he and the other 5 defendants were not worth fighting for. The objective seemed to be to prove that the 50,000-plus people who traveled to Jena to support the Jena six made a "blank trip." As God, and Sis. Sadiyah, are witnesses we warned him about the pressures that go along with being a public figure and a poster child for injustice in America. A lot has happened since then. At the advice of his attorneys, Bell accepted a horrible plea deal, was placed in foster care (even though he's 18), was denied an opportunity to continue his football career among other things. It is reported that he was caught shoplifting recently and became so distraught about the media coverage that he attempted to take his own life. This greatly disturbed myself and many others who know him personally and believe in his potential to succeed. Mychal Bell has indeed made some mistakes. When we all agreed to support him, and the other 5 defendants, we never said that they were perfect. I am not here to be his judge, because he is not much different from myself at his age. Please keep Mike and his family in your prayers. According to his mother, his condition is more complicated than the media is reporting. Mychal Bell is just the famous version of what young Black males go through with the criminal justice system in America.

ASSOCIATED PRESS STORY: PROTESTERS DEMAND JUSTICE FOR DRAGGING DEATH IN PARIS, TEXAS

November 18, 2008

FROM ASSOCIATED PRESS

Written By: Jeff Carlton

PARIS, Texas — Protesters galvanized by a dragging death that has stirred memories of the notorious James Byrd case rallied twice outside an eastern Texas courthouse to speak out against a judicial system they consider racist.
About 60 people, led by a contingent from the New Black Panther Party and the Nation of Islam, met at the Lamar County Courthouse on Monday to bring attention to the death of Brandon McClelland.
The groups later returned with about 200 protesters. Afterward, dozens of people chanting ‘‘No justice, no peace!’’ marched to a nearby church for a meeting.
Authorities say two white suspects purposely ran over McClelland, who is black, following an argument on the way home from a late-night beer run in September. McClelland’s body was torn apart as it was dragged some 70 feet beneath a pickup truck near Paris, a city about 95 miles northeast of Dallas with a history of tense relations between blacks and whites.
The death came 10 years after James Byrd was killed in Jasper, another eastern Texas town. Byrd was chained to the back of a pickup by three white men and dragged for three miles.
‘‘How do we get justice for Brandon McClelland?’’ cried Anthony Bond, founder of the Irving chapter of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People.
‘‘We can’t get justice for Brandon,’’ answered another man. ‘‘He’s dead.’’
Authorities have disputed that racism was the motivation for McClelland’s death, citing his decade-long friendship with the two suspects. They also point out that McClelland was run over and not chained to the back of a truck.
That stance angered McClelland’s mother and activists, who pressured Lamar County and District Attorney Gary Young to step aside in part because he once was the court-appointed defense attorney for one of the suspects.
That suspect, Shannon Finley, was charged with murder in 2003 for the fatal shooting of a friend. He eventually pleaded guilty to manslaughter and served four years in prison.
In that same case, McClelland pleaded guilty to perjury for providing a false alibi for Finley’s whereabouts on the night of the shooting. He was sentenced to five years’ probation but served some jail time when he violated its terms, prosecutor Bill Harris said.
Young has recused himself from the McClelland case, citing his past association with Finley. A judge has appointed former Dallas County assistant district attorney Toby Shook as special prosecutor.
Finley and Charles Crostley remain in the Lamar County Jail on murder charges. They have not been indicted; the grand jury is scheduled to meet next month.
On Monday, sitting mostly alone away from the speakers, McClelland’s mother said she was attending the rally ‘‘to see that justice gets done for my son.’’ She blamed Young for Finley’s short sentence.
‘‘If he had done the right thing, I’m positive my son would be alive today,’’ Jacquline McClelland said.
Young spokesman Allan Hubbard declined comment.
Deric Muhammad, of the Nation of Islam in Houston, warned prosecutors to ‘‘handle this case wisely.’’
‘‘If you want to rewrite some of the history of Paris and Lamar County, handle this case properly,’’ Muhammad said.
The protest, held around the corner from a 20-foot tall Confederate war memorial statue dedicated to ‘‘Our Heroes,’’ attracted about a dozen white onlookers who watched from a parking lot about 30 yards away. More than a dozen law enforcement officials stood on street corners near the protesters. There were no arrests.

HISTORY ON TOP OF HISTORY

OBAMA APPOINTS ERIC HOLDER AS NEW ATTORNEY GENERAL

The first Black Man to Assume Top Law Enforcer Post

This appointment is very significant as it relates to this various systems of justice in America that have greatly decimated the ranks in the Black community, and other communities as well. Our prayers are with Brother Holden and we are praying for his success, which will represent the success of all justice-loving human beings.

Jasper-style Lynching in Paris, Texas

Activists demand hate crime probe into Black man’s horrific dragging death

Written by: Jesse Muhammad

PARIS, Texas (FinalCall.com) - When the body of a 24-year-old Black man in Paris, Texas was discovered in the middle of a busy road, law enforcement declared the case a hit and run by an unidentified driver.
Now this small racially-divided town’s worst fears are brewing, with evidence pointing towards two White men who picked up Brandon Clelland in their Dodge truck before he was found mutilated and dismembered in September.
Forensics performed by the Texas Rangers found blood from Mr. McClelland and other DNA evidence on the undercarriage of the truck which has the victim’s family calling the death a “Jasper-style” lynching. The term is a reference to the murder of a Black man in Jasper, Texas in 1998.
“The tied my son to that truck and drugged him until his body parts were detached,” said Jacqueline McClelland, the victim’s mother in an interview with The Final Call. “His body was so destroyed that it could not even be embalmed by the funeral home. This is a hate crime. I don’t want the death penalty for these killers because that would be too quick. I want them to suffer for life in jail without parole since I will never have my son back.”
The family of dragging victim Brandon McClelland wants the case to be declared a hate crime. Photos: Jesse Muhammad
The Lamar County District Attorney has decided race is not a factor in the death of Mr. McClelland because he was friends with alleged assailants Shannon Finley and Charles Ryan Crostley. Both men are 27-years-old.
Angry family members and community activists, however, are demanding a thorough investigation into a possible hate crime they say parallels the lynching of James Byrd Jr., in Jasper, Texas, which is several hours south of Paris.
In 1998, Mr. Byrd was strapped to a pickup truck and dragged to death by three White supremacists eventually convicted of murder. The case spurred massive protests and drew international outcry Paris authorities are trying to stunt but may have a hard time avoiding.
According to a police report, Mr. McClelland was walking in front of the pickup a little after 4 a.m. on Sept. 16 when Mr. Finley and Mr. Crostley allegedly ran him down and dragged him up and down a Lamar County road until his disfigured body popped out from beneath the chassis.
“I don’t see how it was racial, being as how they were good friends,” said Stacy McNeal to the local press. He is the Texas Ranger who is leading the investigation.
“This was not a hit and run. They (Finley’s family) hid the truck and even tried to wash the blood off. The police didn’t even tape off the crime scene and some of my son’s body parts were still lying out there,” said Ms. McClelland, as she wiped away tears.
“If that would have been a White person killed they would have handled this immediately. This is just like Jasper,” she said. Ms. McClelland added that her family was forced to have the funeral quickly due to pressure applied to the funeral home director. The family wanted to delay the funeral to allow for more investigation, she said.
“He (the funeral director) was told by the police to hurry up and put the body in the ground because they didn’t want any trouble coming to this town,” said Ms. McClelland. “They took the life of my only son.”
“I was awakened by our dog barking around 4:25 a.m. but I couldn’t see what occurred because our camper trailer was blocking my view from my back porch. I wish I could have seen more,” said Bobbi Baker. Ms. Baker, who is White, lives with her husband and son a few feet from the crime scene.
“We think this is horrible,” said Jim Baker, who added that eight law enforcement officers live nearby so “things like this hardly happen over here and this was sad.”
Scene of the crime where the dragging death took place in Lamar County.
Mr. Crostley was arrested and is being held in the Lamar County Jail with a bail exceeding $500,000. Mr. Finley has waived his right to extradition from Wichita, Kan., where he was arrested. Both men are charged with murder and tampering with evidence.
Suspects linked to manslaughter conviction
In 2003, Lamar County D.A. Gary Young served as Mr. Finley’s court-appointed defense attorney when Mr. Finley pleaded guilty to manslaughter for shooting a friend to death.
The victim in the Finley manslaughter case was White and Mr. Finely told police he was sitting in a truck with his friend when two Black men tried to rob them. Mr. Finley said he fired at the robbers but accidentally shot his friend.
An autopsy determined the victim suffered three gunshot wounds to the head, but the district attorney at the time accepted Mr. Finley’s story that the shooting was an accident. He was offered a plea bargain on a reduced manslaughter charge and eventually served a little over a year of a four-year prison sentence. The alleged robbers were never found.
Mr. McClelland falsely testified before a grand jury that Mr. Finley was with him at the time of the shooting. For lying under oath, Mr. McClelland was convicted of aggravated perjury and served over two years in prison.
Grassroots groups on the ground
Members of the New Black Panther Party, Houston Millions More Movement and the Nation of Islam conducted a fact finding mission in Paris on Oct. 5 to comfort the grieving family, interview witnesses and plan a massive town hall meeting at the end of the month.
“We want justice for this family and we want these two criminals prosecuted to the fullness of the law,” said Krystal Muhammad of the New Black Panther Party. “We will be monitoring this case closely.”
New Black Panther Party members met with District Attorney Young Oct. 6 and held a press conference downtown. “We are asking for an outside agency to come in and ensure that justice is served,” said party member Derrick Brown.
“This is a hate crime,” said Paris activist Brenda Cherry to The Final Call. She has been working with the McClelland family. “This is just like Jasper all over again.”
“This killing does not surprise me and it bears witness to the racism that still exists in Paris and other towns,” Creola Cotton told The Final Call.
Ms. Cotton knows firsthand about Paris’ racial disparities. Last year her then 14-year-old Black daughter, Shaquanda Cotton, was sentenced by a local judge to up to seven years in detention for shoving a hall monitor at her high school. Just three months earlier, the same judge sentenced a 14-year-old White girl to probation after convicting her of torching her family’s house. The case drew national attention and resulted in Shaquanda’s early release.
“Recently after nooses started popping up everywhere, the Honorable Minister Louis Farrakhan warned us that these type of hate filled activities would increase,” said Deric Muhammad of the Millions More Movement, who visited the victim’s family and the crime scene. “That crime scene looked like the aftermath of a bloody lynching. If this is not a hate crime, I don’t know what is.”

THE JENA SIX: ONE YEAR LATER

September 20th marked the one-year anniversary of the historic march to free the Jena Six in Jena, La. Much has happened in the year that has passed. However, five of the cases are still pending and the Jena Six are not yet free. Mychal Bell, on the advice of his attorneys, entered a guilty plea and is being remanded in foster care in Monroe, La. The plea deal mandates that his parents would have to pay for the medical bills of Justin Barker (the so-called victim), Mychal still can't come home and his parents have to pay "child support" to the state of La. while he is in foster care. I have never heard anything like that before in my life. Mychal Bell later stated regret for accepting the plea deal. His experience is no different from the other millions of young Black males lost in the maze of the criminial justice system.

On a lighter note, the judge (Judge Mauffrey) was finally recused from the cases. This would not have happened without the support of the thousands of people who mobilized in support of the Jena Six. We are also waiting to hear word regarding the removal of racist D.A. Reed Walters, as well. The other 5 cases are still pending and awaiting resolution. I have heard some murmurings about the movement to free the Jena Six having been "in vain". Nonsense. Nothing that you do for God and your people is done in vain.

"Who's Policing the Police?" One Year After Jena March Louisiana Law Enforcement still "OFF THE HOOK"