A Q&A with Joyce King,
author of Hate Crime
By Pantheon
staff
Joyce King is an
experienced broadcast journalist whose written work has been published in USA
Today, The Christian Science Monitor, and The Dallas Morning News. Hate Crime
is her first book.
Hate Crime tells the horrific, yet captivating
story of the dragging death of James Byrd, Jr. in 1998. Tell me what has changed
over the last several years since this crime took place?
This question has answers on several levels. First, in Jasper itself, I believe
a hard lesson has been learned. A lot of residents thought such an idyllic
little community could never have provided the location for such an unspeakable
crime. They thought race relations were okay, but discovered a lot of people are
still consumed by the past.
Second, at the state level, the Byrd murder was a catalyst of sorts to reignite
a much-avoided discussion on hate-crime legislation. Reborn as The James Byrd,
Jr. Hate Crimes Act, Governor Rick Perry, a Republican, signed the bill into law
in May 2001. That's a huge change, especially when you consider his predecessor,
George W. Bush, refused to support the measure as it was written. It took six
years to push this legislation through. I believe this horrible crime, and the
justice served afterward, promoted more positive racial dialogue that made it a
little easier to get the conservative support necessary to win its passage.
And finally, on a national and international level, our world has changed
dramatically in the last four years, particularly in the past year. Sadly,
Americans are learning, as other world citizens understand, that hatred is
powerful. Whether it is hatred for a man because his skin color is different,
or, hatred of a nation because viewpoints are not the same, the outcome can be
painfully similar: Hatred hurts all.
Being from the south, you know firsthand what the
racial climate is like. Have things changed for the better or for the worse
since the crime was committed? Since the trial?
Since the June '98 dragging, some things feel as if they're never going to
change. Racial progress can sometimes produce a Catch-22 atmosphere-- with the
remarkable progress of the Civil Rights Movement, and the inclusion of the
Martin Luther King, Jr. holiday as testimonials. But there is also that
undercurrent of "unfinished business" that will require an honest dialogue. I
believe this national communication might render blacks and whites more kin than
is comfortable. Since the last trial, I think the justice delivered in this case
may have fueled an ever-present hope that it's not too late to go back and
provide closure in cases, (because of the explosive timeframe) justice was
absent. Certainly, things are better today, but we all have a long way to go.
Blacks and whites are in a marriage, that God, in a humor constantly challenged,
has forever bound together. No manmade power can separate us.
What could you tell us about meeting the three
offenders face-to-face?
Perhaps the most chilling vis-a-vis encounters with the accused occurred the
first time I saw John William King being escorted, shackled across the
courthouse lawn. Nothing had prepared me for such a polite-looking hatred. Day
after day in the three separate trials of King, Brewer, and Berry, the most
difficult thing was hearing gruesome testimony and being able to reach out and
touch those responsible. I was told not to even bother trying to get a jailhouse
interview with King since he'd never subject himself to answer questions "from a
black woman." People were always asking me about the mindset of the trio, and
what made them click. Those same people were always disappointed at the lack of
depth, intelligence, and education the defendants possessed, or didn't. If these
young men were such superior criminals, why were they captured less than 24
hours after the crime? There was no "mastermind" at work here. Beyond the three
culprits, it was Shawn Berry's brother, Louis, who gave me my greatest insight
into their beer-and-backroads lifestyle. In our one-hour chat, (as the jury
deliberated his brother's guilt or innocence) I learned that Louis was very
interchangeable with Shawn. They were one and the same.
Tell me more about the insight Louis gave you.
Louis really told me some personal things about the clique of friends that
included King, Brewer, Shawn, himself, Tommy Faulk, and a handful of others.
They all had similar country-boy personalities-- lived too hard, too fast, and
liked drinking beer together. There wasn't a whole lot to do in Jasper on the
weekends. Yet, Louis was also, as I say in book, "tragically poetic." There was
something very sweet about him, but also something that might be a little
dangerous.
You describe what the George Beto Unit of the Texas
Department of Criminal Justice looks like as you drive up and go inside; you
also describe the high security. Do you think the prison system is a major
contributor to the events that led to the tragedy? What do you think can be done
to change it?
I don't believe the prison system, per se, is a major contributor to the events
that specifically led to June 7th. However, like several components in this
case, it did play a role, just as another common denominator that link the three
men. All were high school dropouts. Coincidence? I don't think so. But does
prison need more improvements? Definitely. One change that would require little
cash involves educating the public. In my research, I discovered that most
people don't have a clue about life in prison and how it can shape racial
attitudes. Some inmates are able to drop survivor beliefs adopted in prison once
released. Others, like King and Brewer, never successfully let it go when they
are deposited back into the "free world." We must be careful to not allow the
prison system in this country to shoulder all the blame for the ongoing racial
strife that exists, or the racist gangs that organize there, and are on the
rise. Prison does not begin to explain, or account for racial crimes committed
in the workplace, on college campuses, or at places of worship by people who
have never been locked up! Everyone in prison, from warden to inmate, talked
about a lack of respect. That's also the key in the free world as well.
What made you think to place yourself, the narrator, in
the story and were you worried that it wouldn't work?
Initially, I started writing with myself as the storyteller only, but all the
passion in me was saying, "How can I possibly ignore the way I feel about this
case and the impact it has had on me?" With that as a starting point, I was
never afraid that it wouldn't work. I was, and am confident that when given
their chance, the reading public will not only see themselves in the ordinary
working person I am, but they will also be able to relate this experience to
extraordinary circumstances we all face in life, and how we choose to rise to
meet those challenges. I didn't happen to Jasper; it happened to me.
What did you hope to accomplish by writing Hate
Crime?
What I hoped to accomplish when I began this journey at the end of 1999,
after the third trial, was to have world citizens, literally, walk a country
mile in my shoes. To see this incredibly small town, nestled away in these thick
woods, among a history of racial violence perpetrated, mostly, against black
men. I wanted to accomplish the connection that blacks and whites have so much
more in common, than not. At the same time, I didn't want to paint a rosy,
all-is-racially-healed portrait that would've given the impression that racism
in East Texas has been cured. Justice was never denied, nor delayed in this
case, which must, somehow be viewed as a model for those larger cities that
remain unsuccessful in the delivery of justice. I think this book accomplishes
what I hoped-- to give brave Jasperites who did take a stand vindication. After
all, the town didn't drag James Byrd, Jr. Three young white men did.
Hate Crime:
The Story of a Dragging in Jasper, Texas; written by
Joyce King
Pantheon | Hardcover | May 2002 | $24.00|
978-0-375-42132-7 (0-375-42132-7)
Click
here to
order the book.
Click
here for more about the author.
