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Statement by Bomani
Shakur of the Lucasville Uprising death sentenced prisoners
3
January 2011
Four
prisoners unjustly sentenced to death for the Lucasville (OH) prison
uprising are going on hunger strike beginning today, to demand that they
be placed on Death Row rather than be held in solitary confinement (and
to initiate a campaign that will hopefully lead to executive clemency).
Here, the first of the prisoners to begin the strike speaks out:
If We Must Die
Before I speak my piece, let me make one thing perfectly clear: I don’t
want to die. I want to live and breathe and strive to do something
righteous with my life. Truly. For the past sixteen years, however, I’ve
been in solitary confinement, confined to a cell 23 hours a day for
something I didn’t do, and, speaking honestly, I have gone as far as I
am willing to go. Am I giving up? No. This is a protest, the only
non-violent way I can think of to express the deep disdain I have for
the unjust situation that I am in. Make no mistake: my physical and
mental strength is intact. However, to continue on in this way would be
to lend legitimacy to a process that is both fraudulent and vindictive;
this I am no longer willing to do.
I realize that for some of you the thought that an innocent man could be
sent to prison and ultimately executed is inconceivable. But it happens.
In a system that’s based more on competition than on the equitable
treatment of others, the football field is not the only place where
participants are encouraged to win at any cost. Hence, in order to be
victorious, some prosecutors hide evidence, lie in open court, and even
pay for the perjured testimony of their witnesses. And this is exactly
what happened in my case (and in the majority of cases stemming from the
1993 prison uprising at the Southern Ohio Correctional Facility in
Lucasville, Ohio); and there are a few people among you who have
reviewed the file and know this to be the truth.
But let us for the moment put aside the question of my guilt or
innocence, because that, believe it or not, is not what this is about.
On that score, we have written several books, produced a play, and are
putting the final touches on a full-scale documentary to illustrate the
travesty of justice that has taken place here; and these things are
available to you if you are interested. For now, I want to talk about
dying…
In all that is presently unclear, one thing is certain: I have been
sentenced to death, which, as you know, is the severest penalty known to
man. Typically, when one has been given the death penalty, one is placed
alongside other similarly-sentenced prisoners and they, together, are
housed in an area that has been designated as Death Row. As living
situations go, this is a very bleak and miserable place: men are sent
here to die, to be killed by the state. No one in their right mind would
ask to be sent here; and yet, this is precisely what I am asking, which
should give you an indication of just how insufferable the situation I
am living under is. And I am not alone…
When the uprising was over, and all was said and done, five of us were
singled out as leaders and sentenced to death. Jason Robb, James Were
(or Namir, as he prefers to be called), Siddique Abdullah Hasan, George
Skatzes, and myself. With the exception of George Skatzes, who for the
past ten years has been in a less pressurized though by no means
acceptable situation, we have undergone penalty on top of penalty, been
kept from fully participating in our appeals, from touching our friends
and families, denied adequate medical treatment, and so many other
things that are too numerous to name. In a word, we have been tortured.
And yes, I am aware that the word “tortured” is a strong word to use,
but I know of no other word that adequately describes what we have been
through. We have been put through hell.
A few months ago, a Federal judge recommended that my case be dismissed,
which effectively moved me one step closer to being executed. It’s hard
to explain how this made me feel; but upon hearing the news I
immediately thought that a mistake had been made and that my attorneys
had somehow misunderstood the judge’s ruling. As it turns out, I was the
one who misunderstood. Indeed, I have been “misunderstanding” things all
along. When I was first named as a suspect in riot-related crimes, I was
certain that my name would eventually be cleared. Instead, I received a
nine-count murder indictment with death-penalty specifications. I was
shocked. And then they offered me a deal: “Cop out to murder and we'll
forget the whole thing,” they told me. “But I’m innocent,” I said,
thinking to myself that the truth of this would somehow set me free. And
so, with the trust and faith of a fool, I went to trial, thinking and
believing that I would receive a fair one (I didn’t) and that I would
ultimately be exonerated (I wasn’t). And then, when I was sentenced to
death, it was my understanding that I would be placed on Death Row and
allowed to pursue my appeals alongside other similarly-sentenced
prisoners; but, again, I misunderstood…”Just wait until you get to
Federal Court,” I was told, “and you'll definitely get some relief
there.” So I waited…I waited for sixteen years!
If justice as a concept is real, then I could with some justification
say, “justice delayed is justice denied.” But this has never been about
justice, and I finally, finally, finally understand that. For the past
sixteen years, I (we) have been nothing more than a scapegoat for the
state, and convenient excuse that they can point to whenever they need
to raise the specter of fear among the public or justify the expenditure
of inordinate amounts of money for more locks and chains. And not only
that, but the main reason behind the double penalty that we have been
undergoing is so that we can serve as an example of what happens to
those who challenge the power and authority of the state. And like good
little pawns we’re supposed to sit here and wait until they take us to
their death chamber, strap us down to a gurney, and pump poison through
our veins. Fuck that! I refuse to go out like that: used as a tool by
the state to put fear into the hearts of others while legitimizing a
system that is bogus and sold to those with money. That’s not my
destiny.
At the beginning of this I wanted to make it perfectly clear that I
didn’t want to die, and I don’t. Life is a beautiful thing, especially
when one is conscious and aware of the value of one’s life. Sadly, it
took going through this process for me to wake up and finally understand
the value of my life. I say “wake up” because, unbeknownst to me I had
been asleep all this time, oblivious to the reality of my situation and
unaware that the only way for one to stop dreaming (and gain control
over things) is for one to open one’s eyes. My eyes are open now.
Is it too late? I don’t know. As I said, the books have been written,
the play has been performed, and, pretty soon, the documentary will be
completed. But what good are these things if they never enter into the
stream of public opinion and force the governor (who answers to the
public) to issue a general amnesty? Admittedly, convincing the governor
to bend in our favor will be a difficult undertaking, one that will
require huge amounts of energy and effort on our behalf. But it can be
done; at the very least, it can be attempted. In the meantime, we who
have been sentenced to death must be granted the exact same privileges
as other death-sentenced prisoners. If we must die, we should be allowed
to do so with dignity, which is all we’re asking: the opportunity to
pursue our appeals unimpeded, to be able to touch our friends and
family, and to no longer be treated as playthings but as human beings
who are facing the ultimate penalty.
Again, I stress that fact that I do not want to die, but in the words of
Claude McKay, I share the following as my parting sentiments:
If we must die, let it not be like hogs
Hunted and penned in an inglorious spot,
While round us bark the mad and hungry dogs,
Making their mock at our accursed lot.
If we must die, O, let us nobly die,
So that our precious blood may not be shed
In vain; then even the monsters we defy
Shall be constrained to honor us through deed!
O kinsmen! We must meet the common foe!
Though far outnumbered let us show us brave,
And for their thousand blows deal one death-blow!
What though before us lies the open grave?
Like men we’ll face the murderous, cowardly pack,
Pressed to the wall, dying, but fighting back!
Bomani Shakur
December 2010
The four hunger strikers are all at the Ohio State Penitentiary:
Siddique Abdullah Hasan (Carlos Sanders) R130-559
Namir Abdul Mateen (James Were) A173-245
Bomani Shakur (Keith Lamar) 317-117
Jason Robb
A308919
Ohio State Penitentiary
878 Coitsville-Hubbard Road
Youngstown, OH 44505
Staughton Lynd and Alice Lynd, attorneys and
activists, have been active in the movement for
justice for the Lucasville Five. A current
article from Staughton's ZSpace page:
<
http://www.zcommunications.org/hunger-strike-at-ohio-state-penitentiary-by-staughton-lynd
>
http://www.zcommunications.org/hunger-strike-at-ohio-state-penitentiary-by-staughton-lynd
This the facebook page for support of the
strikers, which I got from Sharon Danann of the
Lucasville Uprising Freedom Network in Cleveland:
http://www.facebook.com/home.php?sk=group_167034766673281
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