New Jack Slavery

By James ClingmanNNPA ColumnistBlackonomics Many of us know that Abe Lincoln and his Emancipation Proclamation did not free our relatives. On the other hand, many of us believe slavery was abolished when the 13th Amendment to the Constitution was ratified in December 1865, even though it took 100 years more to give us our “civil rights.” But how many of us know that there is an exception in the 13th Amendment that allows slavery in cases of those “duly convicted” of crimes? Maybe that’s why we see all the private jails and all of the money being made on the stock market on prisons. Yes, slavery is alive and well, and I saw a glowing example of it last month in Morgan, Ga. I was in that small town for the Habeas Corpus hearing for William Mayo, the brother who was sentenced to two life sentences, plus 40years, – for a robbery he did not commit. It took 13 years for William to get his hearing, and tens of thousands of dollars, a thousand of which was spent to bring the two men who committed the crime to Morgan to exonerate Mayo. They were not even brought into the courtroom; but I’m getting ahead of myself. That morning in the remote town, dozens of supporters came hundreds of miles to stand with William Mayo, to see justice finally rendered, to share the moment with William’s mother, his family, and friends, as the judge would listen to the arguments and deliberate, and finally decree that William should have another trial. Despite an over-abundance of police officers, prison officers, and court room officers (You would have thought William was a serial murderer or worse), we were full of positive anticipation and didn’t think much of it when the judge had to be reminded to “bring the petitioner” into the courtroom. Just an oversight, you know. The judge was also reminded by William’s attorney that there were witnesses in the courtroom that would be called and she requested they be sequestered in another room. Oh yes, she also suggested to the judge that they be sworn in collectively, which the judge did. More oversights, but no problem, right? Judge Cato asked the attorneys to begin. William’s attorney spoke for a few minutes, setting up the case and recounting two major points: the men who did the crime perjured themselves and would disclose that fact, as they had done several years ago, although no one listened; and the prosecutor in the original case acted in a corruptible manner as he cut deals with the real perpetrators to implicate William. That, too, was disclosed years ago, but no one listened. This time we had the “honorable” Judge Cato; he would listen. After the prosecutor spoke for a few minutes, it was time to rumble. We settled in for a long day in that southern courtroom, in that quaint little town. The defense attorneys, armed with so many files they had to be carted in by hand truck, were ready to go to war. They had the evidence, the witnesses, and they had the hearing they had fought so long to obtain. Justice. What a sweet sounding word. After both attorneys spoke, Judge Cato clasped his hands and began to speak. (By the way, Mayo was shackled hand and feet, and his handcuffs were never taken off, but why was he dressed in clothes that are specifically for persons being released? Hmmm.) Cato started to cite points he had read from the case, and I sat there waiting for him to get to the good part, you know, the part where he says, “Call your witnesses.” Ah yeah, any minute now, I thought. My 12 year-old daughter was with me; I wanted her to see justice in action, and I wanted her to see what can happen to a Black man once he gets caught up in “the system.” As the judge continued to speak, something in his voice and his legal jargon suggested he had already made up his mind, even though he had sworn in the witnesses, even though they had spent William’s money to bring the two perpetrators to Morgan, Georgia, and even though William’s attorneys had hundreds, maybe thousands of documents to share during their presentation. This guy had already made up his mind. He was about to do something that would let everyone know that slavery was still in effect and that he was the master, the one in charge. Cato ended his brief statements by slamming his gavel down and walking out of the courtroom, leaving in his wake a stunned crown, a shocked attorney standing there with her mouth wide open wondering what just happened, and a grieving mother who was not even allowed to hug her son. William was literally man-handled and shoved out of the courtroom without the opportunity to speak one word, to call his witnesses, or to state his case. Thirteen years to get a hearing, but only 10 minutes to deny it. Justice? Yeah, right. What we saw that day reminded me of that little word in the 13th Amendment: “except.” My daughter was traumatized by what she saw; her heart went out to William and his mother. “Why was that judge so mean, daddy?” “Why did they push William the way they did?” “They would not even let him see his mother; why, dad?” We talked about it on our way out of Morgan, Georgia, a town that, now that I have written this, I had better stay away from for fear that Judge Cato will make a slave out of me. Pray for William’s release, and send some money to his defense fund. See www.freemayo.com for more information.James E. Clingman, an adjunct professor at the University of Cincinnati’s African American Studies department, is former editor of the Cincinnati Herald Newspaper and founder of the Greater Cincinnati African American Chamber of Commerce.