> The following article about Mumia Abu-Jamal appeared in the May 31, 2000, > edition of Granma Daily, the Cuban national newspaper. This translation > provided by the International Action Center. > ----------------------- > > "For 18 years Mumia Abu-Jamal awaits his execution in a prison cell. This > U.S. journalist could pay with his life for his constant denunciations of > the system's crimes." > > By Mario Jorge Munoz > > "A young woman falls into a diabetic coma, she's in her car and > the police shoots her, because, they say, she threatened them." Tyesha > Miller, of Riverside California, is added to the list of victims by official > violence. Another youth is in his car in north Philadelphia and a squadron > of armed police approach him. They shout at him from all sides: "Hands up!" > But when he raises his hands, they gun him down, the police officer says he > saw a pistol. Dontae Dawson becomes one more victim. > > "Amadou Diallo, an immigrant from Guinea, Africa, comes to the > U.S. and rents an apartment in the Bronx, New York. Four police come to the > doorway of his building to investigate a violation (Diallo is not on the > list of suspects.) They shoot 41 bullets; 19 hit the unarmed man. Amadou > Diallo will never return to Africa again." > > Such denunciations were written from a cold cell on "death row" in > Pennsylvania. For 18 years, the author is aware that at any moment they > could carry out the sentence. For that reason he expounds as if each moment > were his last: the word continues to be his main weapon giving cognizance to > the inhuman conditions within U.S. prisons, the humiliating treatment that > the prisoners receive. The word, each day ever sharper, continues to be his > most powerful weapon in unmasking the countless injustices of the system and > to show his support for the countless noble causes that are still fought on > the planet. > > He has to pay the price for his beliefs > > There are many reasons to silence his voice. Mumia was a thorn in > the side of the Philadelphia Police Department for his constant public > criticism of the violence and open racism of the agents of "law and order." > > At 15 years old he was one of the founders, in his city, of the Black > Panthers for Liberation, at 17, he was minister of information and reporter > of the Black Panther newspaper. > > And from that time he became one of the targets of the FBI and its > COINTELPRO against the Black movement. It has been revealed that more than > 800 pages of secret surveillance were gathered by the police on Mumia. They > began to persecute him when he was barely 14 years old. They listened to his > phone conversations, they planted spies, his friends and teachers were > harassed. > > But Mumia continued his struggle. He was elected president of the > Association of Black Journalists in Philadelphia, his pen continuing to > denounce the savagery of the Police Department of his city, the brutal > racism that his brothers and sisters suffered. In the streets they began to > call him the "voice of the voiceless," while the police chief, Frank Rizzo, > said that "one day, and I hope that it's during my command, he will have to > pay for all that he's doing today." > > THAT NIGHT HE MUST DIE > > On December 9, 1981, Mumia Abu-Jamal was driving his taxi through > a main street of Philadelphia, when he saw a police beating his brother > William Cook, with a metal flashlight. He jumped to help, there was a fight. > > > Everything was cloudy: Mumia lay bleeding from a bullet wound in > his chest a few yards from the corner of 13th and Locust; close by, police > Daniel Faulkner lay mortally wounded. > > "It seems my real crime was that I survived their attack, but that > night we were the victims," he wrote two months later. The punishment had > just begun. That same night, a little later, at the scene of the incident, > and with a lung and his diaphragm perforated, the police brutally beat him, > ramming his head against a pole. > > Mumia awoke with a pain in his kidneys. He opened his eyes and > found himself with stitches in his body, tubes connected to his nose, a "law > and order" agent smiled while he had his foot on the urine drainage bag so > that urine couldn't drain into the bag. > > Later they transferred him to a cold cell. They thought that in > his delicate state of health, the "n." could contract pneumonia and die. But > Mumia lived. He had no idea that his torture had just begun. > > THE TRIAL WAS A FARCE > > On June 1, 1982, the Judge Albert Sabo had before him a new > opportunity to unleash his history of racial prejudices. The Black > journalist must die for the death of a white cop, the Black youth would face > the anger of this member of the Fraternal Order of the Police (FOP), an > organization which contributed to [Sabo's] election campaign. Before the > trial began, Sabo had already decided the sentence. > > "Justice is just an emotion, a sentiment," he had said. And his > hatred of Blacks was on the list of his deepest sentiments. Sabo bears the > record of the most cases sentenced to death in the United States: of 33 > cases that he has sentenced to death, 95% were not white. > > During the selection of the jury he didn't permit Mumia to > interview the candidates. He said that his appearance (beard and > dreadlocks) intimated them. The "impartial" judge picked his own jury. > > Coincidentally, none of them was against the death penalty. > > Coincidentally only one was Black. > > The prosecutor interviewed more than 100 witnesses; but only > presented those few who were willing to support his version. As to be > expected, he didn't give the names of the others to the defense. Before the > trial, four witnesses said that they had seen a man run from the scene of > the crime. The prosecutor hid this from the jury. Years later, some > witnesses declared that they had been threatened by the police. > > On July 3 the farce was concluded. Mumia summed up with his own words: "The > pure truth is that for "n.", for the poor, the Puerto Ricans, and the > Indigenous who remain after the genocide, justice is a cruel trick, a joke. > I am innocent of the accusations that I have been charged with ... to deny > me my supposed "right" to represent myself, to deny me my right to my own > advisor, the right to a jury of my peers, to question witnesses and to make > statements at the beginning and end of the trial. I am innocent in spite of > what you 12 may think, and freedom will free me! On December 9, 1981 the > police tried to execute me in the street. This trial took place > because they failed." > > On October 26 last year, federal judge William H. Yohn Jr., > signed, once again, a stay of execution for Abu-Jamal, which will remain > while he reviews the petition of habeas corpus that was presented by the > Defense. The petition shows the irregularities of the judicial process, the > racial prejudices and evidence of 29 constitutional violations. > > THE STRUGGLE AGAINST HIS EXECUTION > > For 18 years, behind bars, the "voice of the voiceless" continues > to be heard despite his total isolation, despite being denied physical > contact with his family and friends, after hunger strikes, repression, death > threats, and the continued deterioration of his health. His pen (can't > understand this phrase), although they keep him confined 23 hours a day, > although they read his correspondence, although they deny journalists the > right to interview him. > > Important humanitarian and progressive organizations all over the > world have raised a strong campaign to win him the opportunity to a just > trial. Time is running out. The order of execution could come at any time. > > In that case, the world would watch once again, another crime of > the U.S. system without being able to stop it. Because as one of the many > pages on the Internet dedicated to the international struggle for his > freedom says, Mumia Abu-Jamal is not in prison for the murder of police > Daniel Faulkner, he is sentenced to death for his opinions and political > conduct. > > > > > > > > _______________________________________________________
