Racial Bias in the Criminal Justice System
Gonzaga University School of Law
Race and Criminal Justice in the West Conference
Saturday, September 24, 2011

Let me start by thanking Dean Jane Korn, Interim Dean George Critchlow, Professor Jason Gillmer—and all of the professors and staff at Gonzaga—for organizing and hosting this amazing forum on “Race and Criminal Justice in the West.”  It has been quite extraordinary.

In 2008, in his speech, “A More Perfect Union,” candidate Barack Obama called for a national conversation on race in America. In that speech, he reminded us—in the words of William Faulkner—

Chief Justice Barbara Madsen

“The past isn’t dead and buried.  In fact, it isn’t even past.”

As then-candidate Obama observed, so many of the disparities between black and white Americans can be directly traced to inequalities sanctioned by our state and federal laws: First, laws protecting slavery, and, later laws imposing and perpetuating segregation; Jim Crow laws—laws legalizing discrimination—preventing blacks, Asians, and other nonwhites from owning property or even becoming citizens; FHA regulations that denied mortgages to African-Americans; employment laws and regulations that excluded blacks—and other nonwhites—from unions, or the police force, or fire departments; and laws and policies that have—at times—brought the near extinction of native cultures and—indeed—Native Americans themselves.

In a speech shortly after his appointment to attorney general of the United States, Eric Holder had a conversation about race and racism with his colleagues at the justice department.  He explained the need for understanding—and for a basic grasp of history—which is so often missing from current discussions of racial progress.
He noted—quite correctly—that “this nation has still not come to grips with its racial past nor has it been willing to contemplate, in a truly meaningful way, the diverse future it is fated to have.  To our detriment, this is typical of the way in which this nation deals with issues of race.”

Race is a difficult topic—in part—because race is a social construct—it has no genetic roots.  This means that people have constructed the notion of race—often to gain advantage over others.  The history of race in America is a history of injustice—and this is very difficult for Americans to hear and to accept.

White Americans work hard—and they don’t feel they have any special privileges.  Many lack information about the history of race—and of the laws and policies impacting Americans because of their color.

Whether intended or inadvertent—we are the illness that infects our criminal justice system.  And we hold the cure.  We can stop the epidemic of over-incarceration of people of color.  And the time is now!

Race is not an issue that should be whispered in the privacy of a home or simply ignored; it’s a weighty subject that calls for public debate—even if that debate causes discomfort.

During this conference you’ve been asked to examine the weighty topic of race and the criminal justice system in the western states. Over the past two days, you have been given a massive amount of information regarding the treatment of racial minorities in our justice system.

• You’ve learned about the historical treatment of racial minorities with regard to crime.

• You’ve heard eye-opening statistics about the overincarceration of racial minorities in our criminal justice system. I hope this information concerns and alarms you—as it does me.

• You’ve also heard about the experiences of minorities who interact with our justice system.

In his book, The Presumption of Guilt, Professor Charles Ogletree writes of the experiences of many well-educated, established African-American men retelling experiences about police harassment and racial profiling—men like Henry Louis Gates, Jr., a renowned professor at Harvard University who was arrested for breaking and entering into his own home.

He tells of men who have worked hard to overcome the negative stereotypes that society has placed on people of color—branding them as uneducated or unteachable; lazy, shiftless hoodlums; or drug dealers and thieves—only to learn that even today race trumps class.

Just imagine the anger and disappointment that each of these men felt when they realized that their hard work, education, and financial accomplishments do not shield them from the condemnation that our system affords men of color—that they are still more likely than white men to be falsely accused, falsely arrested.

And, yes, even falsely convicted.  Men like Robert Cotton.  Mr. Cotton is a black man who spent 11 years in prison for a rape he did not commit. Robert was lucky—he was eventually exonerated and released.  He found peace.  He even forgave and befriended his white accuser.

Today, these men travel the country, together, warning about the dangers of racial profiling in the criminal justice system.

In her book, The New Jim Crow, Michelle Alexander describes African-American men who, even after serving their time and paying their debt to society, face a life of continued discrimination.  Jobs and housing aren’t available to them—they are excluded from jury service—school loans are beyond their reach—public benefits are withheld—and they are denied their right to vote.

Many of these people never recover from the harm imposed by our system. They grapple with the pain that results from their interaction with our flawed system.  Often, they pass their hurt and anger on to others, to children, spouses, relatives, and friends. Or, they inflict pain on their communities and on strangers.

Over time, the damage done breaks down trust between neighbors, destroys whole communities, and weakens public trust and confidence in our system. The total cost and damage to society is difficult to measure in terms of dollars—but, it takes its toll in broken spirits and lost dreams.

Some information presented at the conference may have been new to you, some of you may have heard it before.

Regardless of when or where you learned about the problem, or how many times you’ve heard the alarming statistics, there is one “take away” I ask each of you to remember—

Every current and future lawyer, every prosecutor, every law professor and scholar, every judicial officer, every law enforcement officer, elected official and concerned citizen, everyone in the audience:

“Whether intended or inadvertent—we are the illness that infects our criminal justice system.  And we hold the cure.  We can stop the epidemic of over-incarceration of people of color.  And the time is now!”

Each day, people with broken lives interact with the triad of criminal justice—law enforcement, courts, or corrections.  Indeed, it is our justice system; it belongs to us. We are the architects of the system.

With every rule we adopt—every law we pass—with every police, drug, sentencing, and court policy and rule we promulgate—we design and build OUR system. With every argument, pleading, ruling, and opinion drafted that supports, defends, or opposes a policy or law, we maintain OUR system.

As the architects, planners, and builders of OUR system, when we find flaws or cracks in the foundation—we need to remodel.

When we find:

• a lack of resources to wage a meaningful defense; or?• the over-incarceration of nonviolent offenders, persons with mental illness, and drug addicts; and

• a lack of meaningful rehabilitation programs—

We need to redesign.

When we identify negative, unintended consequences—such as offenders who cannot satisfy legal and financial obligations that could lead to re-incarceration and a return to debtor’s prison—

We need to rebuild.

Many of these issues are caused by our faulty raw materials—or poor workmanship and construction.  They are the effects of poorly drafted policies, rules, legislation, and regulation—such as the “War on Drugs” and mandatory sentencing enhancements that cannot be reduced.

We must exercise leadership.  We must find the voice to address the problems. We must speak up against the conscious and unconscious bias that is damaging our society in many ways.

Each of us must become advocates for the system we desire; we must retrofit and redesign OUR System—to develop one we can be proud to call our own. We must acknowledge our social and ethical responsibilities.  In essence, we must:

• recognize that there is a problem,
• seek to understand the problem,
• devise a corrective action plan,
• execute the plan,
• and evaluate our success or failure.

Your presence here today encourages me.  I am confident that you know something is awry with our justice system.  We have a problem that must be corrected. That means step 1 has been accomplished—check off number 1.

Many papers, statistics, and analyses were presented and discussed—and the panel discussions speak to your efforts to define and understand the problem.  Check off number 2.

Some have proposed recommendations.  If there is agreement and consent—these may form the building blocks for corrective action plans for justice system partners.  Check off number 3.

If it were just that easy . . . .

Research indicates that discussing the problem is not enough to move the pendulum—from tolerating and accepting differences—to embracing inclusion as a justice system imperative.  It will take more than just acknowledging that bias exists, that it’s wrong, and communicating that it won’t be tolerated.

It will take much more to recondition years of negative influences of laws, regulations, and policies—and the consistent tendency that we all have to favor those who look, behave, and think like us—our own group.

What we see, and what we typically tend to focus on, is the way people look—and based on that appearance—we make judgments.

People come to court dressed in orange or blue jumpsuits or come in shackles and handcuffs.  Others come in what we consider “inappropriate attire”—saggy pants and white T-shirts with shiny metal belts; bandannas; tight skirts and jeans; their hair all different hues, textures, and styles; and with tattoos.

These people speak and behave in ways often foreign to us, with language and gestures we don’t understand.

In contrast, other people come to court in suits, conservative clothes, with clean- shaved faces and neat hair.  They speak like our friends and neighbors.
Yet all of these people believe that we will understand them.  They have faith that when their story is told, the judges, jurors, and prosecutors will listen and hear.  They believe that in the end, the process will be fair.

Unfortunately, the research complied by the Task Force on Race and the Criminal Justice System has shown that appearances distract and influence us.  The research shows that there are differences in the processing of felony cases involving ethnic minorities that cannot be explained by legally relevant factors.  For some reason, people of color are treated differently.  Could it be due to years of negative conditioning about people of color that can’t be eradicated with reason, research, and statistics?

When people of color are involved, we don’t really understand.  We haven’t experienced what they have experienced—and we can’t imagine what their lives are like.  And—sadly—many of us don’t want to.

We’ve spent years developing mostly inaccurate opinions about their abilities, their propensities, and their differences—this may only be changed with better images and different opinions developed through personal experiences and interacting with people of color in everyday life.

Each of us is personally responsible for acknowledging our negative conditioning and finding opportunities to “hit the reset button.”

We must reach out to people of color in personal and professional settings—include people of color in our circle of friends, associates, and colleagues; listen to and respect their opinions and feelings about race, the justice system, and the treatment of people of color; and never seek to minimize or trivialize their feelings.  We must acknowledge that we can’t ever truly know what they feel because we can’t ever know what it’s like to live life in brown skin.

As leaders, we must model exemplary behavior.  Attorneys and court staff look to us for guidance and leadership.

Judges can—and should—correct or sanction attorneys who use racist or other derogatory language or stereotypes during their examination of a witness or during oral argument.

In a recent case, State v. Monday, the Washington State Supreme Court took a huge step in eradicating racial bias in our courts when it overturned a murder conviction because the prosecutor attempted to undermine the credibility of a witness by invoking unfounded stereotypes about African-Americans.  My colleagues and I acknowledged that the behavior there was so egregious as to deserve severe and swift action—reversal.

Judges should be attentive to counsel’s behavior during jury selection. A thorough jury selection process should be permitted to enable attorneys to determine grounds for legitimate challenges for cause and to make informed use of peremptory challenges.

Case law allows a trial judge, in his or her discretion, to adopt a bright line rule that the exercise of peremptory challenges does not extend to challenges that will eliminate racial diversity in a jury panel.

During jury selection in State v. Rhone, there were two African-Americans in the jury pool.  One was dismissed for cause.  The other, “juror 19,” was removed by the prosecutor’s peremptory challenge.  Our State Supreme Court upheld the conviction, but several members of the court suggested that a bright line rule can be used to preserve a diverse jury panel.

Today, when a person of color walks into a courtroom in Washington, they’ll likely see a white, middle-aged judge—often a man.  They’ll likely see white court staff, white prosecutors, and mostly white defense attorneys.  Many of these people are likely dealing with years of negative conditioning about people of color.

Given our courts’ lack of diversity, it’s no surprise people of color are skeptical of our justice system.  These opinions won’t change until we create an environment where people of color feel welcomed and respected.

Over time, the damage done by racism breaks down trust between neighbors, destroys whole communities, and weakens public trust and confidence in our system. The total cost and damage to society is difficult to measure in terms of dollars—but, it takes its toll in broken spirits and lost dreams.

From their leadership position, judges can encourage inclusive recruitment and a commitment to a diverse work force in court and administrative personnel.
Judges can also play a key role in diversifying the bench, by mentoring and encouraging attorneys of color to pursue a judicial career.  The Washington State Judicial Diversity Program Initiative is an example.  Retired Washington judges are helping attorneys of color demystify the judicial appointment and election process by providing professional guidance and support.

Judges have special expertise in the law and court administration.  Code of Judicial Conduct Canon 3.2(A) allows judges to speak to legislators and other policy makers in connection with matters concerning the law and the legal system.  We are encouraged to share our special knowledge with others, including legislators and other policy makers.

We must also encourage our colleagues to seek out and take advantage of continuing education in developing cultural competency.  We spend many hours studying the law and understanding rulings and decisions that impact people—perhaps we should spend time understanding people, their culture and experiences.

Finally, we can initiate and lead a continuous review of court policies, procedures, and rules.  We can revise, modify, and delete any policy that either intentionally or unintentionally marginalizes people of color.

Last year, I directed a review of the Washington State Supreme Court’s boards and commissions.  Because of comments that were made by members of the Supreme Court during that process—we were asked to lead a conversation on race.

The Supreme Court agreed—which led to the establishment of the Task Force on Race and the Criminal Justice System.  In response to task force recommendations, the court has agreed to participate in additional forums addressing juvenile justice.  We are also reviewing the Minority and Justice Commission’s implementation plan to address task force recommendations.

The plan requests a critical review of pleas at arraignment, the factors for pretrial release, and the impact of legal financial obligations on convicted felons’ post-release.

We have many tools available to eradicate bias in our justice system.  The key is to plan and execute.

Echoing the sentiment of Judge Stephen Brennan, we can only reach our goals through the vehicle of a plan, a plan we fervently believe in and upon which we vigorously act.  This is the only route to success.

Ladies and gentlemen—it’s time to start the engines!

–Published with permission from Justice Madsen

The U.S. Department of Justice (DOJ) has opened two investigations into possible misconduct by the Seattle Police Department, according to the Seattle Times.

Image via Wikimedia

One of the DOJ inquiries is into the shooting death last August of First Nations woodcarver John T. Williams. Williams was killed by Seattle police officer Ian Birk on a downtown Seattle sidewalk after he reportedly ignored multiple commands to drop his pocket knife. The shooting provoked considerable outrage in the Seattle community and Birk resigned from the department in February even though King County Prosecutor Dan Satterberg announced he would not bring charges against the officer.

According to the Times, the federal inquiry will now examine whether Birk violated Williams’s civil rights.

The other DOJ inquiry is a much broader “patterns and practices” investigation by the Justice Department’s Civil Rights Division to determine if there are “systemic violations of the Constitution or federal law” by Seattle Police Department officers. At least in part, the investigation appears to be a response to a letter sent last December by the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) and signed by 34 community groups, calling for a federal investigation of use of force by the city’s police officers, especially against people of color.

The disclosures mean that police departments in both of Washington’s largest cities are under DOJ scrutiny. In June of 2009, following a DOJ investigation, a federal grand jury brought charges of civil rights violations and records falsification against a Spokane police officer in connection with the March 2006 death of Otto Zehm.

In a lengthy front page story in today’s Spokesman-Review, reporter Tom Clouse lays out several new pieces of information in the suspicious August 25th shooting death of Spokane Valley pastor and plant store owner Wayne Scott Creach. At the same time, Clouse reports that the 700-plus page investigative report released by the Spokane Police Department was delivered to Spokane County Prosecutor Steve Tucker with no recommendation as to whether charges should be filed against Deputy Hirzel. As Clouse notes, the local police investigation of the 2006 homicide of Otto Zehm at the hands of Spokane police officers also went to Tucker with no recommendation for prosecution, even though federal prosecutors later indicted a Spokane police officer in Zehm’s death. The criminal case in Zehm’s death is scheduled for trial in March of next year.

Based on the investigative file, Clouse reports on several possibly significant facts in the case, including:

*This is not Deputy Hirzel’s first involvement in a fatal encounter. According to Clouse’s story, when Hirzel was a police officer in California “several years ago” he applied a chokehold on a person who later died. No criminal charges were filed in that incident, the paper reports.

*There is apparently no corroborating physical evidence or witness account to back Hirzel’s claim that he struck Creach in the leg with his baton before shooting him.

*Despite Hirzel’s claim that, in an “assertive” voice, he repeatedly told Creach to drop his weapon and get on the ground, neither Creach’s wife or other witnesses interviewed report hearing the officer say anything prior to hearing a single gunshot.

*Although Hirzel originally told investigators that he remembered Creach being about six feet away when he shot him, the autopsy on the 74-year-old found gun powder residue in his skin, consistent with a shot being fired within four feet of the pastor.

*Despite Hirzel’s statement to investigators that he didn’t use his spotlight on Creach, witnesses and responding deputies reported that the light was on.

If the Spokane City Council finally adopts a police oversight ordinance tomorrow finally giving the city’s Office of Police Ombudsman some clear independence from its police department, it will come a day after yet another emotionally wrenching account of alleged police abuse was laid before the community.

The new story came in today’s Spokesman-Review by eminent investigative reporter Bill Morlin.

“Arrest Still Churns,” is the headline.

It’s the story of Beverly Saruwatari and her two sons, Jerud Melcher and Travis Melcher. Travis is alive. Ms. Saruwatari, a much revered Spokane elementary school teacher, and her son Jerod are both dead, she from a brain hemorrhage and he from suicide.

As Morlin reports, Ms. Saruwatari died three weeks after her arrest by Spokane police on June 7th of last year. Police came to her home on the South Hill with the mistaken belief that her son Jerud had been involved in a pharmacy robbery. Ms. Saruwatari, who stood all of 4 feet, 10 inches tall, was working on her porch door with a hammer at the time the police arrived. Friends who knew her, including another S-R reporter who lives in her neighborhood, say they cannot imagine how this model citizen would have defied armed police officers. But police say they felt threatened by her because she refused to drop her hammer. So they arrested her on two felony charges. (She said later she was wearing open toed shoes and was also afraid that the hammer would crack her tile floor.)

Ms. Saruwatari was taken off the jail but, again according to Morlin’s story, not before police rifled through her house in the mistaken pursuit of the wrong guy. The event left her traumatized and having to take prescription anxiety medication. She died on June 27, 2009, at age 61.
The person police wrongly believed committed the pharmacy robbery was her son Jerud, who did have a criminal record. Jerud was grief-stricken by his mother’s death. He and his brother Travis were also deeply frustrated by the fact that the Spokane officers involved in their mother’s arrest were cleared by an internal investigation, and that the city’s police ombudsman lacked the authority to independently investigate the complaint. In April, Jerud shot himself to death and left a note explaining that his suicide was his “un-silent protest of my mother’s death.”

Morlin’s signature reporting puts this story in its present, time-bomb ticking context. Public outrage at the growing number of police abuse cases (with only rare consequences for police officers) has challenged a painfully tone-deaf mayor, Mary Verner, and a divided and clearly frustrated city council. After adopting what nearly all council members acknowledged was a flawed ordinance creating the police ombudsman office in late 2008, the city says it subsequently tried but failed to gain collective bargaining concessions from its police unions to strengthen it. Thus, the 2008 ordinance has remained, unchanged, and has so rapidly undermined the credibility of the city’s ombudsman, Tim Burns, that Burns has lately and conspicuously broken from the Mayor’s office and begun to advocate for independent authority.

After struggling with the issue for years, the council seemed to experience a breakthrough over the June 19th weekend. Four and a half hours into its June 21st meeting, a new version of the ordinance suddenly appeared and was quickly voted on–not to pass, but to replace for council discussion and debate the “First Reading” version of the measure that a large gathering of citizens had come to testify against.

Bill Morlin’s signature reporting puts this story in its present, time-bomb ticking context. Public outrage at the growing number of police abuse cases–with only rare consequences for police officers–has challenged a painfully tone-deaf mayor, Mary Verner, and a divided and clearly frustrated city council.

The breakthrough is a new clause in the ordinance that, if it holds, would at least be a start toward fulfilling a key goal of the citizen coalition that includes the Center for Justice. Currently, the Office of Police Ombudsman (OPO) is merely allowed to ride along on SPD internal affairs investigations into citizen complaints–including complaints filed directly with the ombudsman office. The OPO cannot even file its own reports about complaints. The new language would authorize the ombudsman to do interviews and gather information about complaints at the time the OPO receives them from citizens. The ombudsman would use this information in the preparation of reports that the OPO–not the police department–would issue.

Beyond this pivotal new language, which appears likely to be adopted by the council should it get to a vote on Monday, there are other thorny issues that the council has to wrestle with.

Among the most important are whether the OPO will have authority to address complaints not just against line officers, but the police chief and her command staff as well. As the language currently reads, the chief and the SPD brass would appear to be off limits.

Another important issue is whether the OPO will have access to interview SPD officers named in complaints. Under the terms of the “First Reading” ordinance that was replaced last Monday, the OPO would be given the power to compel an internal affairs (IA) investigation into a complaint even if IA and the police chief object.

But that language was crossed out in the new version, introduced during last Monday’s meeting. According to multiple sources, the language was crossed out to address legal concerns that it gave the OPO too much power in the SPD internal affairs process–a process that could (even if it rarely does) lead to officers being disciplined.  If the OPO is involved in a process leading to officer discipline, the reasoning goes, then the police unions could challenge it on the grounds that it constitutes a change in working conditions that is a subject for collective bargaining under Washington law.

The Center for Justice and other lawyers working with the coalition disagree with this interpretation. Moreover, if the OPO can’t require an IA investigation into a complaint, it creates another problem.

In Boise, Idaho, the ombudsman ordinance simply requires all city employees to cooperate with the ombudsman’s inquiries. But Idaho’s a right to work state. In Washington, requiring police officers to cooperate with a new entity, like the Spokane OPO, would likely be viewed by the courts as a change in working conditions and thus a violation of a collective bargaining agreement, unless the unions consented to it. Thus, as it stands (with the police guilds’ steadfast opposition to independent oversight), the only way for the Spokane OPO to access SPD officers is through the OPO’s “ride along” with the internal affairs investigation. This raises the clear prospect that the SPD could undermine or thwart an OPO inquiry simply by not agreeing to accept the complaint for an IA investigation.

Following last Monday’s meeting the citizen coalition working on the ordinance met and agreed to submit comments to the council prior to this Monday’s meeting. You can read those here. You can read our letter requesting an extension of the hearing and an opportunity for a coalition presentation here.

A couple important footnotes to our previous reporting on this issue:

1) On further inquiry, it turns out that Jim Donais–one of those who testified at the May 24th council meeting–was arrested and tasered not by Spokane police officers, but by Spokane County Sheriff’s deputies during an incident that took place in north Spokane in May 2004.

2) The city has finally made available to us the report that Ombudsman Tim Burns took of David Edwards’s complaint about an incident that occurred on Martin Luther King Day, earlier this year. The officer’s name is blacked out. You can view the report here. One of the first things that struck me–and which really underscores the deep flaws in the present system–is that the form is a Spokane Police Department Internal Affairs form. It’s a striking reminder of just how thoroughly bogus the argument from the Mayor’s office has been that the current OPO amounts to “independent” oversight of the SPD. This is no trivial issue. In the fullness of the Bill Morlin’s article on the Beverly Saruwatari story this morning, there is an account of an enraged Jerud Melcher confronting Burns with the question of whether Burns was working for the police department, “or working for us?”

–Tim Connor

Put yourself in his shoes. A young Native American husband and father, he was shot in the head while fleeing from a drunken, off-duty Spokane police officer who claimed that Shonto Pete was trying to steal his truck. Only Pete was tried and acquitted of trying to steal the truck. Then a jury, without knowledge of Pete’s acquittal, turned around and found the cop not guilty of first degree assault and reckless endangerment. As if it’s just fine for people, let alone police officers, to run after and open fire (in a residential neighborhood, no less) on people who’ve done nothing violent toward the person with the gun.

The gun, in this case, was one that officer Jay Olsen was legally allowed to conceal and carry on account of his position as a Spokane police officer.

As city councilman Bob Apple told The Inlander’s Nicholas Deshais this week, “I’ve been appalled at this thing the whole way through. The courts did a great injustice,” adding: “There’s the stench of rotting flesh. I smell it. People smell it.”

For now, that stench is on our judicial system and it lingers in the air at City Hall, where neither the council nor the mayor have exercised the moral leadership to address it in a way that smacks of decency and fair play.

Because he was acquitted of shooting Pete, Olsen got to collect $153,000 of back pay, covering the period between his suspension after the shooting and his resignation, a resignation entered in lieu of termination. Shonto Pete not only had to endure a near-fatal injury, but now owes nearly $40,000 in legal and medical bills.

Technically, at least, the city is off the hook in Pete’s case because, a week ago Friday, Federal Judge Edward Shea concluded, in a near-apologetic ruling, that because Olsen was off-duty the city couldn’t be held liable for his actions.

Judge Shea’s decision, for me at least, prompted something of a flashback to a very tense but, in many ways, amazing gathering at the N.A.T.I.V.E. project in west Spokane a year ago this week. That was when I first met Shonto, his wife, and his mother as they sat in a large circle and listened as many fellow Native Americans in Spokane shared their sorrow and terror, frankly, at not just what had happened to Pete, but about what has happened to them and their family members over the years at the hands of Spokane police. Coming just days after Olsen’s acquittal, the emotions were raw.

One of the more memorable things said that evening was from Colville Tribe member Shelly Boyd. “It was wrong what happened to Shonto,” she said. “It was so wrong that wrong isn’t even the word. Maybe there’s an Indian word for it, that I don’t know.”

The police chief was there. The assistant police chief was there. The city council president was there. The mayor was there.

What Shea’s ruling reminded me of is what Mayor Verner, who is capable of deep listening, said when she got her chance to speak near the end of the evening. Our mayor, who speaks as soulfully and eloquently as any politician, began by acknowledging the honor of her sharing “sacred ground” with her Native American hosts. Though she acknowledged hearing a call for an independent inquiry, Verner said what she really thought she could subscribe to was a workshop. Right. A workshop to educate people without legal training on how the legal system works (and doesn’t work) because “we can’t reform it until we know what it is.”

How’s that for leadership? I think I can fairly describe the reaction in the room as collective,  silent groan.

The last person to speak that evening was Shonto, and he spoke only a few words in a soft voice before ending the evening with a farewell song.

What struck me then, and since, is not Pete’s anger, but his quiet resolve and dignity. There is a cinematic quality to Shonto’s story that is of the same timber as Midnight in the Garden of Good & Evil, John Berendt’s elegant and quirky account of the mysteries and intrigues surrounding a 1981 fatal shooting in Savannah, another town where everybody seems to know everybody else. In Berendt’s book justice arrives like a fog emanating from the Spanish moss of a cemetery.

Justice hasn’t arrived in Spokane, yet, and perhaps if it does it will fall from the sky like volcanic ash. Whenever I see Shonto Pete, his very bearing tells me that he is the living symbol of a movement, a resilient human witness to the bitter pain and anger that resides throughout our community because the city’s leaders just don’t care enough about this unaddressed and deepening wrong to move with the courage necessary to resolve it, and to begin restoring public trust in the police department.

Would it have been unreasonable for the city to settle Shonto’s claim by offering to pay his legal and medical bills? Would it be so unreasonable, now, to give the people of Spokane the independent police oversight they’ve been seeking for at least a generation?

Shonto didn’t take a turn on the bullhorn at Thursday’s gathering at a Spokane convenience store on North Division to memorialize the killing, four years ago, of Otto Zehm. That’s because Shonto Pete is not a shouter. He was there, he told me, not only to honor Otto and his family, but to be with the many friends and supporters who’ve been present with him over the past three years. He’s also consistently shown up at rallies to lend his name to the demands for independent police oversight.

In light of Judge Shea’s ruling, I asked him Thursday, as we stood near the Zip Trip gas pumps, about his spirits.

“My spirits are high,” he said.”Just like when I got shot, I never gave up then and I won’t give up now. You can shoot me, you can kick me, you can do whatever you want to me. You can cut my hair, you can take my language. But you can’t take my spirit.”

–Tim Connor