"Murdered By Mumia": How not to build one's case for justice

Rhetorical Strategy No. 5 – Avoid Serious Reflection on Substantial Issues

I have in mind here the way the Faulkner/Smerconish book, while being about the desire of the Faulkner family to see the execution of an African-American man, avoids serious reflection either on the merits of the death penalty, or on the problem of structural racism.

Concerning the death penalty, there is no weighing of the arguments for capital punishment, not even a concern to cite the theorists who have developed some strong arguments for the death penalty.[9] Usually, in the context of the rhetoric summarized above, and with reference to Maureen Faulkner’s grief and pain, the book makes do with statements like this one from Faulkner on the penultimate page of her book: “I firmly believe that a person who knowingly and violently takes the life of another person, especially a police officer, should forfeit their own life” (300).

Mumia’s citation of Albert Camus on the problems with the death penalty in his Yale Law Journal essay is not even taken up by the authors. They just quote Abu-Jamal citing Camus and then plunge on to bemoan that he was given a chance to write for this Ivy-League publication (72). There is one place later in the book where the authors do pause to mention - though without citation - a “criminology study at Wayne State University” that “emboldened” Michael Smerconish, by claiming that in the wake of an execution “there are fewer murders committed on the third day thereafter” (165). This rather bizarre fragment from an uncited source is taken as grounds for Smerconish’s “fervor and conviction” that the death penalty is a deterrent. In fact, law enforcement studies themselves question the deterrence value of the death penalty, especially for deterring the killing of police officers.[10]

The other issue that haunts the book and is never seriously reflected upon is racism and the criminal justice system. The writers tend to block serious reflection on this theme by accusing supporters of Abu-Jamal of “playing the race card” (73, 75, 156) or simply denying that the issue is relevant to this case (see pages 296-7 for original prosecutor Joe McGill’s position about recent charges of racism in jury selection). This is a most obvious evasion of issues with which a serious book would have to wrestle.

Nearly every reputable history of criminal justice and policing in Philadelphia, and of its economic and political life generally, has found it necessary to look at the effects of structural racism in city structures.[11] There exists, too, the studies that beginning in 1998 have found Philadelphia and Pennsylvania courts and review systems “rife with racism.”[12] Moreover, U.S. Third Circuit Court judges now weighing Abu-Jamal’s legal arguments are grappling with legal precedent’s long-established concern that racial bias not be operative at all in a legal proceeding.[13]

Given the confirmation we now have that the Philadelphia DA’s Office had used a video tape for training members of its Office in the “art” of reducing black representation on juries, and had done so near the time of Abu-Jamal’s prosecution,[14] Faulkner’s and Smerconish’s crude dismissal of the issue as “playing the race card” is yet another reinforcement of Philadelphia’s tradition of structural racism, and another severe failing of this book’s rhetorical strategy.

A Closing Image – “Convicts Waiting for Trial”

For a closing image I suggest a passage from Maureen Faulkner’s description of her experiences during PCRA Hearings in Philadelphia’s new Criminal Justice Center. She and her partner, Paul Palkovic, traveled to the hearings one day, transported by a police van that delivered them and the family to the back of the courthouse, so that they might avoid the “lengthy line” of others trying to get in, the “huge backup of people” and the “hundreds of Abu-Jamal people trying to get into the courtroom” (144-5). She then says that as they disembarked from the van, “there was a busload of convicts waiting for trial next to us” (144).

Now, perhaps these “convicts waiting for trial” were previously convicted inmates being sent to trial for further deliberation on alleged new crimes. That, though, would be an all-too-charitable reading of the expression chosen by Faulkner here. It is more likely - and all evidence from Faulkner’s and Smerconish’s rhetoric in the book suggests this – that she is instead presuming that if one has been apprehended for trial , or is “waiting for trial,” one is already a “convict,” at least a bad person, not of the “good people.” It is another assumption of ill repute that she projects on those who are not clearly part of the system that continues to serve her in so many ways.

In this same passage, Faulkner also says that the “convicts” “boisterously jeered as we solemnly walked in,” not bothering to tell readers how they would know to jeer at her and for what. It is enough that she is one who sees them jeering. She goes on to allege that “very angry pro-Abu-Jamal protestors” chased her and about ten others, including attorneys and two cops (145).

Her spirits were soothed that day only by “pleasant conversation” with Ed Rendell, who “has always been a strong supporter of mine.” Then Mayor Rendell arranged for her and Paul to make a trip to the top of City Hall where they enjoyed, as she puts it, “the pristine perfection of our temporary solitude – perched high atop the city where the madness raged below us” (146).

Clearly, as this book makes clear, Maureen Faulkner and her family have had the ups and downs suffered by nearly all victims of violent crimes, and she’s had still more highs and lows born of her relentless struggle alongside Philadelphia authorities to see Abu-Jamal executed. She also has had what many murder victims families have not had,[15] years of supportive police culture, police van escorting and mayoral sponsorship for visits to the high places (literally and metaphorically)of city government.

In spite of all this official support, Faulkner and Smerconish have not offered in this book a convincing discourse that seriously reflects upon what justice might be in the case of Mumia Abu-Jamal. Let us hope that the U.S. Third Circuit Court of Appeals, now considering Abu-Jamal’s case, can offer a more discerning wisdom.