Back to Page 1 <<Back to Articles>> A Cause Macabre: What Did We Learn from Stanley “Tookie” Williams? (Continued) Page 2 Yes, Williams found redemption in prison. Don’t all inmates? And I don’t say this casually—I have two brothers currently serving time in separate state prisons for armed robbery and, as much as I love them and hope they, too, atone for their crimes, their time status as inmates is deserved. You see, to me there exists no standardized path for African Americans to follow. No predestined economic lot that only the Condoleeza Rices, Bill Cosbys and Jay Zs escape. Before you are quick to label me another Larry Elder, understand that I very much recognize and deplore the underreported present-day racism that clearly places a bigger burden on black males more so than on black females. But my other brothers are not slinging rock. In fact, they’re rather well off because of successful, professional careers. Why, then, did Williams choose a different road? At 26 years old, he decided that a .22 was better than a book. Being pursued by the law was better than pursuing a degree in law. Killing a family for money was better than making a killing and having a family. And this, all this, is supposed to be disregarded? The books? That’s his reason to seek reprieve, yes? In “My Letter to Youth” Nos. 1 and 2, Williams does admit to his skewed sense of reasoning at age 17, and for that he should be applauded. It took almost 10 years after he was convicted of the four murders for Williams’ introspection; nonetheless, the “Letter” series and the Tookie Speaks Out Against Gang Violence book series offered some incite and alternatives for young black men. But nowhere in his writings is there any apology to the Owens and Yang families, if not for (allegedly) killing their loved ones, at least for putting in motion the group whose members were most likely responsible. Nor did he ever cooperate with authorities, something that could have led to the demise of violent street gangs. According to news sources, his co-author Barbara Becnel claimed that Williams would “lose his credibility” among the younger generation if he became a snitch. I disagree. In fact, he would gain universal credibility among confused youths, angered parents, and, most importantly, his victims and their families by completely denouncing his actions and the actions of anyone who chooses a life of crime. It’s much easier to believe that Williams was more concerned about his safety in prison (no one likes a canary) than “street creed.” Of course, all of this is moot because he’s dead, right? While the vigils remained outside San Quentin, no one seemed to consider that his death should not mean the death of the anti-gang movement that Williams embraced after his incarceration. Why all of a sudden do these protesters feel that Williams is the only person who can communicate the detriment of joining a gang and living a life of crime? Rather, they should use his execution as a lesson in proactive inner-city youth education instead of focusing their energy and time on trying to preserve a voice that was saying something they all could have said, much to the chagrin of his victims’ families. Yes, the death penalty does not deter people from crime, and many, many innocent people have died because of an egregiously and inherently racist justice system; however, we can’t let our disdain for the practice undermine the crimes that it is designed to punish. The next time these activists gather on the eve of an execution to protest a flawed procedure, perhaps they should heartily consider the actions of their latest beneficiary. Better yet, maybe they could spend that time making sure there won’t be another one to take his/her place once the switch is thrown. Written by Natalie Martin <<Back to Articles>>