After Years of Struggle, Salazar Wins Freedom; Jury Rules Involuntary Manslaughter in Death of Police Officer "....They say that this is the land of opportunity and justice for all. They tell us to be all that we can be and aim for the stars., for no dreams are impossible. It all sounds good and may even look very promising. But it isn't equal and just as they protray. For life has shown me a far different story. WIthout knowing it, many of us aim at shattreed dreams." - words of Manuel Salazar, read in court November 7, 1996 ****** Late in afternoon of November 7, 1996, thirty-year-old Manuel Salazar sat at a table with his lawyers in Room 404 of the courthouse for Will County, Illinois. The jury had just left to deliberate in his second trial for having killed a white Joliet cop in self-defense. Eleven years ago, an all-white jury convicted Manuel of murder and sentenced him to die. Now, Manuel could only wonder. Would this this jury also swallow the prosecution's lies and return him to death row, or would they see the truth and end his nightmare. Eight hours later, the answer came, as friends, family and supporters all hugged and shed tears of joy. After eleven years in prison, Manuel Salazar was finally going to come home. ***** "They were not speeding, not littering, not doing nothing but driving down that street... I want to know where the law is that you can stop a man or woman for race?" - Milton Grimes closing remarks to the jury, November 7, 1996 It was a story born of racism. On September 12, 1984, 18-year-old Manuel "Junior" Salazar was just one member of a carload of four young Latinos and a Black teenager traveling on the East side of Joliet. Some, Manuel included, were a little buzzed from sniffing paint. They drew the suspicion of a pair of Joliet cops who were driving in the opposite direction. One cop was a Latino rookie, the other a vetaran white officer named Martin Murrin. Murrin commented that the group was "a suspicous combination" with "recurring problems with that mix in that area." The squad car made a U-turn to follow. Realizing that it was a matter of time before they would be stopped, Manuel's friend Johnny Garcia, hit the brakes. Both Manuel and another youth, 16-year-old Norman Gates, bolted from the car, each going in opposite directions. Manuel had good reason to run - in his gym bag was a loaded 9mm gun he had used for target practice, something he learned from his grandfather in Mexico. He didn't want to get arrested. Murrin, his gun drawn, took off after Manuel, who was heading down an alley. Manuel got to a fence and tosses the bag over, but couldn't get away himself. Moments later, Murrin caught up with Manuel. With no where to run, Manuel surrendered. He expected to be cuffed and arrested. Instead, Murrin punched Manuel in the eye, knocked him down and kept on hitting. Manuel yelled "I give, I give," but Murrin wouldn't stop. After Manuel pushed Murrin away, Murrin pulled his gun. Fearing for his life, Manuel grabbed for the weapon. After a brief struggle, the gun fired five times, leaving Murrin mortally wounded and Manuel stunned. By the time Murrin's partner got to the scene, Manuel was running in a panic. He arrived at a friends house, his face so distorted from the beating that at first no one recognized him. "Frankenstein" was one of the words used to describe his face. But there was no mistaking how much trouble he was in. From that moment on, the authorities declared a hunting season for Manuel. A $5,000 reward was put out. A woman saw the intials "MS" on a police shotgun. Friends of Manuel heard police talk of a "shoot to kill" order. Fearing for his life, Manuel made it down to Mexico, where he could be safe with family members. That refuge lasted only eight months. On May 18, 1985, Manuel was siezed at his uncle's farm by a joint group of Mexican and US law enforcement agents. According to Manuel's uncle, they had no warrant, wore no uniforms, but were armed to the teeth. Manuel was handed over to US authorities, brought back to Joliet, and put on trial for murder. "He is what he is. A sensitve young man. A human being. Enough is enough. It is time to let him go." - Milton Grimes closing remarks to the jury, November 7, 1996 Manuel's first trial was a charade of justice. The jury was all-white and clearly lacking a even basic sense of what police brutality is all about. The prosecution went overboard painting a distorted picture of Manuel as a cold blooded killer who simply executed Officer Murrin. Evidence was shaky at best, manufactured at worst. A key witness was the neighborhood drunk, who's testimony radically changed from having no idea what was said between Manuel and Murrin to clearly hearing the cop request that Manuel cease fighting. One of Manuel's friends charged that his testimony was coached and shaped on tape to bolster the state's version of events. The defense attorney had little experience with these kind of cases, having had more experience defending police in displinary hearings. He himeslef was under investigation by a state agency over a bribery charge. He brought only three witnesses, and even failed to realize that the judge's instructions to the jury were illegal. It was a recipe for a conviction, which was delivered on December 3, 1995. The death sentence followed a few days later. "This is a case that is going to be an example for the whole city of Joliet, Will County and the State of Illinois. THe prosecution wants to use Manuel Salazar as an example to Black and Hispanics - 'if you don't behave yourselve this is waht will happen to you.' That is the issue right here. If you don't walk a straight line, this is what will happen to you. This is what the state is trying to prove." - Alfredo Oviedo, supporter of Manuel Salazar New teams of lawyers filed appeals, with the law partnership "For the Defense" becoming a center for legal efforts to free Manuel. Yet despite bringing in more than forty witnesses to refute the state's weak evidence and clearly making a case for prior lawyer incompetance it seemed they were finding no justice in the courts. Protests were also organized by Manuel's supporters, in and out of Joliet growing to an international issues with protests taking place in London. Groups ranged from the Coalition for Justice to the Campaign to End the Death Penalty. Hundreds marched at protests in Chicago, at the Illinois state capital in Springfied and at the Will County courthouse in Joliet. Demonstrations by local Joliet residents were especially significant because of the harassment they would recieve from the police, who themselves held marches of their own demanding Manuel's speedy execution. Manuel himself helped bring international attention to this case through his art. Confined 23 hours-a-day to a cell in Pontiac prison's condemned unit, he filled the endless hours in behind bars with his artwork. A self-taught painter, he became in the words of one expert, a "very advanced" artist. His works were exhibited in Chicago, Mexico and London, which helped spread awareness of the struggle for his freedom. Manuel's so-called extradition from Mexico also became an increasingly bigger issue, compelling the Mexican government to send diplomatic notes of protest to U.S. government officials, while a legal team filed a suit demanding Manuel's return to Mexico. The Treaty of Extradition between the United States and Mexico prohibits extradiction from Mexico if an individual will be facing the death penalty. The U.S. did not inform the Mexican government of that simple fact. ****** "He has a right as a human being - When Manuel looked in his face and saw 'he's gonna kill me.' He then had a right to defend himself" - Milton Grimes closing remarks to the jury, November 7, 1996 "They have an absolute need for a conviction, a need that knows no bounds." - Gary Johnson closing remarks to the jury, November 7, 1996 Less than two months following the note sent in August of 1994, the Illinois Supreme Court decided with a six-to-one vote to grant Manuel a new trial, faulting the trial judge's instructions to the jury. It took two more years, until September 1996, for the new trial to begin. As it began, it had all the markings of a travesty that the first one was. Once again, the prosecution attempted to portray Manuel as a ruthless killer, using slander and viciousness to make up for their lack of evidence. The assistant State's Attorney, Phillip Mock called Manuel a "paint sniffing gun-toting thug." He linked him to mass murderer John Wayne Gacy as a "fellow death row artist." He had a deputy evesdrop on a conversation between Manuel's mother and a defense lawyerr, claiming that her need to use of a Spanish interpreter in the witness stand was a put up job. He even labled the defense's efforts to expose of Murrin as "Nazi" tactics. Meanwhile, "Marty," as Murrin was constantly called by the prosecution, was to be packaged as a virtual saint. Typical of the prosection was discarding evidence when it contradicted their story, and creating evidence if they could get away with it. One example one was their efforts to make the alchohol found in Murrin's blood go away. THe police's own autopsy report showed that Officer Murrin had the equivilent of two beers worth of alchohol at the time of death. It meant that either he had a few brews on the job, or knocked down at least a six pack before coming to work. Either way, it would have affected his behavior - perhaps given him the extra incentive to vent his anger on Manuel. Faced with these facts, they brought a lab director who signed off on the report in 1984 to now claim it was wrong. They brought in an "expert" who tried to argue that the alchohol in Murrin's blood came from decomposition, not drinking. They paraded a string of police officers who insist they never saw Murrin drink or smelled alchohol on his breath. To be safe, if that all failed, the prosecution even brought in an "expert" to say it didn't matter if he had alchohol in his blood anyway. Unlike in the first trial, the defense brought thirty witnesses to the stand. Experts on how people in life and death situations react. Witnesses to Murrins brutal behavior. Witnesses who saw the battered condition of Manuel's face. Toxicologists who could show that without a doubt Murrin had been drinking on the day he attacked Manuel. And once again Manuel Salazar related how he was beaten and almost killed by Murrin. With the facts not in their favor, it created a difficult situation for the prosection. Continuing in the police tradition of never-before-seen confessions the prosecution produced a document that was never seen by either the defense attorney nor prosecutor in Manuel's first trial. The confession was said to have occured shortly after Manuel was captured in Mexico and brought across the border. Even though Manuel refused to speak to his attorney because the man forget a password. Even though Manuel refused to speak to two other police who tried to question him, the jury was to believe that Manuel simply blurted out all this incriminating information to a Laredo, Texas cop. Missing from the story was any real proof. No video recording. No audio recordings. Not even a signature - since the police claimed that because of Manuel's so-called skill as a martial artist, he could use a pencil as a weapon. THe only "proof" was the assertion of Hale and an FBI agent that Manuel said the statement was "fairly accurate." In the words of Attorney Johnson, the whole statement was "garbage. The bottom line was that the prosecution had no proof to offer that Manuel was the aggressor or intended to gun down Officer Murrin. As Defense attorney Milton Grimes pointed out, Manuel had a fully loaded 9mm automatic in his gym bag. What did he do with it - throw it sixteen feet away on the other side of a fence. Had Manuel's intent been to kill, he could have easily pulled it from the bag and blown Murrin away. The evidence supports the argument that Manuel was trying to avoid a confrontation. Yet while the prosecution could not prove their claims that Manuel had a killer's heart, the defense brought evidence to show Murrin's brutal track record. A witness came in from Arizona to testify how Murrin beat him up while he was handcuffed in the back of a squad car. Ben Moreno, an interpreter who's worked in the court building for seventeen years, said that Murrin was known as "Wyatt Earp" with a reputation for "hassling kids" and "slapping them around." Moreno personally witnessed Murrin "having a couple of kids kneeling on the sidewalk" and was told "get the hell out of here." "We've heard of cases throughout the country - they've covered up, have planted, have lied, have stolen, have robbed, have murdered.." - Milton Grimes on the police during closing remarks to the jury, November 7, 1996 The prosecution whined that it was "unfortunate" that the defense brought race into the trial. But in fact the defense was trying to insure that the jury was clear that racism and police brutality were the essence of this trial from the moment Murrin decided to follow a car because it was filled with what he called a "suspicious combination" of Mexicans and Blacks. Especially what the defense was hoping to do was knock down the tendency to automitically assume the police are telling the truth, or be swept up by emotionalism because a cop was killed. Milton Grimes' last words were, "the fate of Manuel Salazar is in your hands." ****** "The most beautiful feeling. It's just a feeling that we can not express" Susan Salazar on the release of her brother Manuel. Manuel was found guilty of involuntary manslaughter - the lowest charge short of outright acquital. The maximum sentence runs five years, far less than the amount of time Manuel has already spent behind bars, and he was released on bail. He still has to report in December for his setencing, but it is considered just a formality. Police threats have started almost immediately. Cops told family members that Manuel had better not show his face at the courthouse press conference that was held the day he was released. The same day, one of Manuel's older brothers had a visit from police. And a deputy sheriff told Manuel's sister that the police were out to "get him." Manuel's mother said, "I'm happy, but not so happy....I don't want my kids to get hurt." Manuel Salazar's release comes at a time when the government and Supreme Court are moving to further restrict the rights of prisoners to appeal their cases to higher federal couts. If the conviction and death sentence in his case had been allowed to stand, Manuel would have been the victim of a legal lynching. For the many more prisoners who remain on death row, including political prisoner Mumi Abu-Jamal, Salazar's release is a victory for them as well.