Posted on 12/14/2005 7:58:27 AM PST by SmithL
Even before the execution of Stanley "Tookie" Williams, the struggle to define his life -- and shape his legacy -- had already begun.
In the convicted killer's failed pleas for clemency, in Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger's denials, from the mouths of his supporters and detractors, there emerged contrasting portraits of a peace activist and a jailhouse con man. It is a paradox that will follow him to his grave.
On one side are those who believe in Williams' redemption and the good he did through his anti-gang speeches and children's books.
Fresh from the San Quentin Prison chamber where she had just watched her friend die early Tuesday, Barbara Becnel told a cheering crowd that she is "now a woman on a mission."
"That mission is one: to obtain justice for Stanley 'Tookie' Williams by proving beyond a shadow of a doubt his innocence, (and) continuing to preserve the incredibly remarkable legacy of this man who personifies redemption," she said.
Part two of her new mission is to defeat Schwarzenegger in the next election.
Rudy Langlais, who produced "Redemption: The Stan Tookie Williams Story," also witnessed the execution and spent most of Monday with Williams.
"All day long he was talking about the children," Langlais said. "All he talked about was how we needed to save the children."
The portrait painted by families of the victims and the governor, however, is filled with violence and Williams' stubborn refusal to take responsibility for the pain he inflicted on the world.
Schwarzenegger wrote that Williams presented "little mention or atonement in his writings and his plea for clemency of the countless murders committed by the Crips following the lifestyle Williams once espoused. The senseless killing that has ruined many families, particularly in African-American communities, in the name of the Crips and gang warfare is a tragedy of our modern culture."
Williams was 17 when he co-founded the Crips, a violent Los Angeles street gang that has crept all across the United States and into many other countries.
A jury convicted him in the 1979 shotgun killings of convenience store clerk Albert Owens, 26, during a 7-Eleven robbery in Whittier; and of Yen-I Yang, 76, his wife, Tsai-Shai Yang, 63, and their daughter, Ye-Chen Lin, 43, during a robbery at the motel they operated in Los Angeles.
For many, however, the gruesome, unprovoked murders do not negate Williams' personal transformation, and the story even gives hope to others who are trying to turn around their lives.
His message of peace, not his acts of violence, which are denied by Williams and his supporters, will be his lasting legacy, said Phil Gasper, professor of philosophy at Notre Dame de Namur University in Belmont and an anti-death penalty activist.
"I nominated him for the Nobel Peace Price (after) finding out more about what he had done and meeting many of the people who had been influenced by his writings," Gasper said.
"It's impossible to make the argument that this is all some kind of phony act to save himself. He used the money from the books that he wrote to do anti-violence work. He didn't spend it on his defense."
Williams is credited with writing nine children's books warning of the dangers of gang life and drafting a template to end gang violence. His autobiography was made into a TV movie starring Jamie Foxx.
"He managed to have this enormous impact sitting in his cell in San Quentin," Gasper said. "His voice really connected to young people, and he knew that was going to be the case. He used that credibility in his final years to do something very, very positive."
But Williams' efforts to reach out beyond prison walls may fade as the memory of his high-profile fight to save his own life retreats into history. His plea for peace, after all, was aimed at a notoriously unpredictable audience: the young, the disaffected and the desperate.
"It's really hard to say, but I think young people, they think about how he was a former gang member, he started the Crips. They don't think about him writing children's books. They don't think about his anti-gang talks," said Richmond police Sgt. Michael Booker, who heads up an anti-gang unit and coaches basketball at Kennedy High School.
"All I can tell you is the kids I've seen over the years have responded to more positive role models."
As long as adults continue to hold Williams up as an example, however, his ideas will live on in classrooms and counseling centers around the country.
Jim Weber, 78, of Oakland said he worked for about five years in juvenile halls and alternative schools in Los Angeles, San Mateo, Santa Clara and Alameda counties.
He would post Williams' picture in the classroom and ask students to read passages from his book about prison life.
"They think it's glamorous to be in prison," he said. "They think, I'm in the big house and that makes them manly."
"I was trying to scare them into realizing how terrible it would be in prison."
At Richmond High School, several teachers had their students read Williams' books and used newspaper accounts of his pending execution as a springboard for discussions about gang life, redemption and the death penalty.
On Tuesday afternoon, students had mixed reactions about the execution.
Crystal Alexander, 17, said that Williams' execution was cruel and that the state, by taking his life, is as guilty as Williams was.
Rocky Nunez, 14, said he was unconvinced of Williams' redemption and that he received justice. "I think 27 years was much too long to wait, they should have killed him right away," he said. "He killed four people."
John Wayne Gacy Jr., Chicago serial killer, while waiting for his execution painted profusely. Should have Gacy's art output, his prison legacy, redeemed him and saved him from excution? Was this talented treasure to art world sacrificed at the execution block of the racist state?
Well, Gacy was white and so were his some 20 victims.
And his art works show pedestrian-level graphics of clowns.
(Denny Crane: "I Don't Want To Socialize With A Pinko Liberal Democrat Commie.Say What You Like About Republicans. We Stick To Our Convictions. Even When We Know We're Dead Wrong.")
(Denny Crane: "I Don't Want To Socialize With A Pinko Liberal Democrat Commie.Say What You Like About Republicans. We Stick To Our Convictions. Even When We Know We're Dead Wrong.")
(Denny Crane: "I Don't Want To Socialize With A Pinko Liberal Democrat Commie.Say What You Like About Republicans. We Stick To Our Convictions. Even When We Know We're Dead Wrong.")
(Denny Crane: "I Don't Want To Socialize With A Pinko Liberal Democrat Commie.Say What You Like About Republicans. We Stick To Our Convictions. Even When We Know We're Dead Wrong.")
How do we know that? And why didn't a dime of this money go to help his victims' families?
New York Post headline, inexplicably placed on Page 27:
Tough Tookies
I heard he had quite a record for disturbances and assaults in prison.
Time to throw the carcass out with the rest of the trash.
I don't care if old Tookie could turn water into wine. His penalty was given for crimes already committed.
I'm glad he is dead. Every time a murderer dies, I get all warm and fuzzy inside. : )
You can always gauge how liberal a person is by how much they worry about their legacy. They just don't understand that history will be the ultimate judge.
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