By Alexander Hamilton
Of the 360 plus potential members of my jury, seven of them were Black. Somehow, five of them had action at residing on my jury.
It was Contra Costa County District Attorney Harold Jewitt’s turn to vote someone out. It came as no surprise when the young, Black man who looked as if he could be a friend of mine, with dreadlocks in his hair, was kicked off my jury. Then, D.A. Jewitt announced that he was willing to proceed with the presiding members there, which caught my attorney by surprise.
I whispered to my attorney, “Asian dude that’s stuck on the death penalty if I’m found guilty gotta go!”
My attorney responded, “This is the best pool we’re going to get. If I do anything, another Black juror will be removed. Al, all we need is for one of them [Black jurors] to vote to give you Life Without Parole, and you avoid the Death Penalty.”
“Okay then,” I said, “let’s proceed.”
My trial began in the summer of 2007. Remember that innocence wasn’t ever my defense. I’ve always taken full responsibility for my actions. The hope was to humanize me before the jury, sharing my experiences and struggles with them. I hoped that just one person could see me as a young child who made some serious mistakes that cost someone their life. Being that Life Without Parole was the other punishment option to death, it wasn’t as if them voting for such was giving me an extreme break.
My remaining Black jurors included a man and a woman who sat next to each other, both between the ages of 35 and 45; the two were also a man and a woman, but between the ages of 50 and 65, who sat one seat apart from each other. I remember the older brother was from St. Lucia, which was the first time that I’d heard of the place. I just knew that one of these four wouldn’t condemn me to die for one day of self-destructive ignorant actions. I remember their faces vividly. Just as well, I remember the faces of the Asian man who was pro-death penalty, and the big, white man who was my jury foreman that slept during the majority of my trial.
There’s never been a time in my life when I’ve come into contact with the police and there wasn’t a sense of danger of what things could become in a heartbeat. Knowing that I was branded “armed and dangerous”, I knew in my mind on the day I committed these crimes that I was already knocking on death’s door. Yet, I wanted nothing more than to preserve my life. Two and a half years later, when I heard that verdict of DEATH read out, it was then that I realized that my actions didn’t preserve anything.
Throughout my trial, the younger Black man was only looking at the woman sitting next to him. She was very shapely, full-figured. She was always looking at the Judge, or whoever was on the stand, or staring off into nowhere. The younger Black man had a smirk on his face the whole time. For the life of me I couldn’t figure out what was so funny. The older Black couple made eye contact with me once, then looked away. The Asian youngster looked at me and held eye contact. I already knew what time it was with him, so I wasn’t trippin’. I ask myself now why was I surprised that they ALL voted for death when the whole time that my life was on display, hearing about my experiences, upbringing, struggles living in the ‘hood, that they could possibly relate to my mother and brother getting up on the stand and asking them not to kill me: NOBODY FROM MY JURY LOOKED IN MY DIRECTION ONCE!
Twelve people with no knowledge of the law had a say as to if I lived or died. Twelve people wanted to come to a decision and to be done with my trial in the name of getting back to the rhythm of their lives. Four of them where “my people”, yet they couldn’t see their likeness when they looked at me. They sentenced me to death in September 2007, when smart phones had just taken off, along with social media. In the next year, we also had our first Black President.
Since then, we’ve seen police brutality firsthand, caught on camera by everyday citizens. Pay attention to the climate of this country now in August 2020. Police assassinate a person of color and, even if it’s on video, charges aren’t even being filed. I do wonder if you ever think about the li’l Black boy you sent to Death Row because you thought that he needed to DIE for his actions. Or, where do you stand when it comes to the #BLACKLIVESMATTER movement, because my life didn’t mean nothing to you? Are you for or against it? Have you had a change of heart when it comes to me? Or have you forgotten about the part that you’re playing in this system that is conspiring to kill this Black body?
It’s not justifying my bad actions, nor anyone else’s, with or without a badge. But a year before my trial, there were two executions here at San Quentin State Prison. So, you knew that sending me to Death Row at twenty years old I’d likely be strapped to a table and pumped full of drugs that neither of us could pronounce while an audience watched. I ask, was this your hope, that they would do it quick? As soon as I got here? Why did you send me here? Do you still feel the same way? Was it easy to condemn me to die? How do you feel about all of these police assassinations of people that look like you? Are you paying attention at how these District Attorneys and Police Chiefs work hand-in-hand, along with the State Attorneys and Attorneys General? Why do you think that the police feel so comfortable gunning someone down that looks like you? It’s called “above the law”, but I am asking for your opinion.
Whatever it is that you’re thinking or feeling, know this: YOU VOTED TO KILL ME!
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