Editorial: Bullets of ignorance

May 1, 2001

Originally appeared in Silent News, May 2001.

This month’s issue is of particular interest to me. There are many stories that relate to lawsuits, and three stories that relate to protests or rallies (Maryland, Connecticut and California). I’m not sure why there are so many stories this month on these topics…perhaps because of our new president and the party change to Republican. Or perhaps it’s because it’s that time of the year – legislation being passed and signed into law and school years coming to an end with faculty/staff preparing for next year. Whatever the reasons – it makes me wonder if we’ve truly made progress in our lives. With the passage of the Americans with Disabilities Act, we all had hope that our lives would finally become convenient with closed captioning, TTYs, and simple accessibility.

To explore this further, I went back into our storage room where we keep all the old issues dating back to 1969. I sat down and found countless issues even back in the 1970s with front-page stories that proclaimed problems with communication accessibility. It’s been 30 years, and we still are struggling. We are probably more aware of our rights today, which may explain the influx of lawsuits and public protests, but we’ve still got a long way to go.

Another story this month that really hit home for me was the James Levier shooting. As I read the official report that ruled the shooting by Maine police as justifiable, I was suddenly reminded of the Eric Smith shooting in Illinois. Eric was someone I grew up with at summer camp, and then a fellow student at Gallaudet. He was beaten by Washington, DC police in a case of mistaken identity, and severly traumatized by that experience. He left school to go back to Joliet, Ill., to try and recuperate from that experience. Eric was attending therapy and drug counseling when he got into an argument with his mother along I-55. They pulled over and to make a long story short, two police cars, both with volunteer policemen, pulled up and eventually shot Eric six times, finally killing him with the sixth shot.

The night I heard about the shooting on the local news, I e-mailed my notetaker from stats class and told him that he and the cops had screwed up (though I used far more colorful words).

You see, my notetaker at that time — purely by coincidence — was Captain Kenneth Bouche, who is a top administrator with the Illinois State Police. Ken, who was in charge of the investigation into Eric’s shooting, told me to wait until I knew the whole story before I pointed the finger at the police. We discussed the shooting at length later on. After I learned the details of the case, I realized that indeed, the shooting was justifiable – even as much as it pains me to say that.

Eric (6’1”, 260 pounds and a former state wrestling champion) held one of the policemen —  who was 5’3” — up in the air with one hand around the uniformed policeman’s neck, shaking him “like a rag doll,” as a witness said. There were 20 witnesses, and 19 had the same account of what happened. Eric should also have immediately ceased when he saw the uniformed police (regardless of his past trauma with the D.C. police). Still, I wonder if the police had misunderstood Eric’s gestures (they claim he was hitting his mother in the car. I wonder if he had simply been tapping her on the shoulder).

Within a month, another shooting took place in Illinois — this time, downstate — where a deaf man was killed. Again, a miscommunication was the cause. The police claimed Stephen Helmig — a man who couldn’t speak — had voiced repeatedly, “I’m going to kill you” as they encountered each other in the dark during a reported break-in.

With the two shootings, Captain Bouche, a wonderfully aware and keen man, determined that the unifying problem in all these shootings, in addition to having heard some of my own personal experiences with police, was miscommunication. As he said once, police can be idiots when it comes to understanding communication with deaf people. Another point he made that I found especially valid was that in all of his years as a policeman, he’d only met one deaf person. Meanwhile, every deaf person out in the community has met many, many police officers.

Bouche then formed a committee or a task force of sorts, and after two years of research and studies, that committee began teaching courses on communication issues (mind you, not teaching sign language, but rather, teaching about resources available and how to communicate with various types of deaf people, hard of hearing people, and others) at the Illinois Police Academy in Springfield. A “picture book” was also created by Sergeant John Garner of Springfield, and is in nearly every state police vehicle. These are only temporary patches and by no means anywhere near the importance of having full communication access. Even so, it does distress me to see this continuing over and over in so many states. Errol Shaw, James Levier, Eric Smith, Stephen Helmig.

Whenever I visit my parents in Illinois, I often have to drive on I-55. I know exactly the spot where Eric was shot and killed: 1/4 mile north of Harlem Avenue. And when I drive by, I think about all the times we get pulled over by police (my infamous speeding!) and how many times I get worried that communication will get mangled because of ignorance both on the police’s part and the deaf person’s part.

So, as I read the story about Levier, I felt a sense of horror and worry. First, that Levier was so despondent he felt he had to go to such extreme measures. Second, that the police felt the need to keep shooting at him — not twice, not thrice, but seven times. Third, that this won’t be the last time someone gets killed because of being deaf, or ignorance.

The next time we get pulled over for speeding or call the police for an incident in our homes, we’d better hope that the next bullet isn’t for us.

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Filed Under: Editorial, Humanity, Media, Silent News, Stereotypes

Editorial: Guess what I just heard?

November 1, 2000

Originally appeared in Silent News, November 2000.

By the time I got out of bed on the morning of Sept. 28, I had five e-mails waiting to tell me about Eric Plunkett’s tragic murder the day before. By noon, I heard that he was murdered by six girls. Then I heard that he was murdered because he was getting ready to notify officials about a fellow student who had raped six girls. By the time police arrested the main suspect, Thomas Minch, I heard that Plunkett was bludgeoned to death by a sledgehammer by a frenzied Minch, who was angry over a breakup. The person who told me this even argued with me, saying I didn’t have my facts straight (even though I had already gotten the official report).

In truth, the weapon used was a chair, and Minch was released almost immediately due to insufficient evidence.

People constantly expressed shock, anger, disbelief, and sadness in the Plunkett death. Yet, almost every one of them became angry at Minch as soon as he was arrested. Suspects are supposed to be innocent until proven guilty. Minch was immediately cast as the guilty party, even though he was only a suspect.

Fellow students and people who knew Minch said one of two things: ”I can’t believe he’d do anything like this,” or, “That was so sick of him to do this.”

Can you imagine? Minch is forever ruined by this experience. He comes from a deaf family in New Hampshire. Can you imagine how difficult this is for the family, especially within the close-knit deaf community? How difficult it is for the people who attended camp with Minch? How difficult it is for classmates of Minch from both The Learning Center and Gallaudet? How difficult it is for Eric Plunkett’s family (who has astounded me with their positive attitudes throughout this tragedy)?

I’ve seen how a rush to judge someone can affect a family. Some years ago, a classmate of mine was arrested by the FBI in a sting for selling pornography over the Internet. He was quickly labeled by both the local media and the deaf community as a sick and deranged person. This was a guy I had grown up with and shared so much with. His family, also a deaf family, was immediately bombarded with either anger or support. Later, it was found that he was indeed innocent. However, no matter what, even today he is talked about behind his back. His whole family is still talked about by people. I see people signing in hushed signs whenever one of the family members walks by. I have seen the pain this guy has gone through for someone else’s mistake. All for the sake of gossip.

Many deaf leaders are also victims of the curse of gossip. No matter what and no matter how honest they may be, deaf leaders are always talked about. Why?

More often than not, it’s the work of a very few people. One deaf leader screws up, they all get stereotyped. There are certainly a few deaf leaders or directors who have set precedents for future directors or leaders. I’ve worked at an agency where the deaf director was the most dishonest person I had ever worked with, and quite arrogant in his beliefs that he wouldn’t get caught (he did).

Rumors are just incredible. They destroy relationships, destroy confidence and trust, and sadly, too often, destroy lives. They also cause unnecessary harm.

When I was a sophomore at Gallaudet, I went on spring break to Cancun with 15 others. One of our group members got killed in a freak jeep accident. When I arrived at school from Cancun, I walked up to my room and went straight to the TTY to call my mother and let her know of what had happened. The very minute I sat down to start dialing, my doorbell flashed. It was the girl (actually, she was nearly 40, so I suppose I should say she was a woman) from next door, saying with wide eyes, “I heard your group killed someone!” This was literally four minutes after I had arrived and two minutes after I had set down my suitcase. How in the world did she hear so fast? And how in the world did she have the guts to come to my door and say that? Needless to say, I rudely slammed the door in her face and called my mother.  She never spoke to me after that.

So, what to do?

When you hear rumors about people, check your facts. Ask the people, and if you don’t feel comfortable asking them—then it’s really none of your business, anyway. Or here’s a radical idea: ignore them. You’ll sleep better at night. I promise.

Copyrighted material. This article can not be copied, reproduced, or redistributed without the written consent of the author.

Filed Under: Culture, Editorial, Gallaudet, Silent News

Editorial: What a start!

October 1, 2000

Originally appeared in Silent News, October 2000.

A few weeks ago, I drove from Chicago to Mount Laurel, N.J., to start my new job here at the newspaper. I had gotten lousy directions off the web—so at 1:00 a.m., I was lost in a new town in a new state. I got fed up with driving aimlessly up and down Route 73 trying to find my hotel, so I decided to make a u-turn (turns out they’re very illegal in this area) and got busted by a local policeman. Luckily, he didn’t ticket me. Even so, he was dumbfounded about how to communicate with me, and kept trying to make me lipread with the sirens flashing behind his head. I gestured for him to write, pointing to the lights. He then shone his flashlight upon his face—keep in mind his car was next to my truck with the lights flashing directly behind his head—and said, “Does this help?”

After agreeing with me that lipreading was probably useless, he admitted he had no idea of where I was supposed to go either. So, I paged a friend back in Chicago and finally got the correct directions.

The hotel office closed at 11:00 p.m., so late arrivals were expected to dial a specific number to call someone to come and open the door. I had called twice prior to my arrival to confirm my late arrival, and was told both times that they would make alternate arrangements for me with absolutely no problem.

I arrived at my hotel only to find that the office did not leave a note or key for me.

So, here I was, at 2:00 a.m., stranded.  I dialed the number repeatedly and stared blankly into the receiver each time, hoping that the other person would realize there was someone at the door. No luck. I once again used my pager (how did I ever survive before I got my pager?) and had someone call the office for me. At 2:30 a.m., I finally got the key to my room—and didn’t get to bed until 3:30 a.m. because of unloading my car, getting settled in, and trying to relax a little.

A few hours later, I started my first day at Silent News.

In thinking about that night, I’ve come to realize that even though we’ve come a long way in accessibility and equality, we’ve still got a lot of ignorance and inaccessibility going on. And that ignorance makes for a lot of frustration, especially at 2:00 a.m.

Even so, Silent News has been there for many of these changes or frustrations for the Deaf/Hard of Hearing community, and for many of the milestones in my life.

I started reading Silent News when I was a young child. I can’t really remember how or where. Maybe my parents subscribed, or I read it at school. Either way, I remember regularly checking the magazine rack in the “hearing impaired office” (as it was known back then) at my high school to see if Silent News or any other publication of interest had arrived. I would sit and pore through those publications inch by inch, drinking up every bit of information—and dreaming about where I would be going in the community. This was how I learned about our deaf leaders, our deaf people, and our events, and I would then share the information with the other 75 deaf students at my school.

That thrill of learning, that thrill of dreaming, and that thrill of reading about someone or someplace you know is something I hope to revive with Silent News. Even with all the instant news we receive through e-mail, the web, and TV, there’s still nothing like the feel of a new issue of Silent News that you can sit and read.

Silent News will be going through some changes. You may like them. Or you may not. Either way, we hope to have more original stories, more variety in our stories, and a more uniform look.

We want to make sure you get your money’s worth, and enjoy our paper. Also, if you’re interested in writing for us, we would be thrilled to have you on board.

I also need you to tell me what fonts you like or don’t like. What pictures do you want to see more of?  What stories would you like to see? What don’t you like? (By the way, we will be changing our logo in time for the next issue, hopefully—keep your eyes open for that!)

I’d also like to be able to have more diversity in our writers. Not all of our writers will be on a regular basis. Some will write only a few times a year, and others will write on a monthly basis. But I think you’ll agree that each brings a unique perspective to the newspaper.

Please know that this is your newspaper. I want to  produce a newspaper that meets your expectations.

Most of all, I hope to be able to make a difference for another person just like that Deaf child I was years ago.

Copyrighted material. This article can not be copied, reproduced, or redistributed without the express written consent of the author.

Filed Under: Business, Childhood, Culture, Editorial, Silent News Tagged With: ,

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