[casinochniks]

I've put together a few articles which may be at the heart of the furor - and the dilemma - of the shooting death of Trayvon Martin.


Trayvon Martin killing in Florida puts 'Stand Your Ground' law on trial
The shooting of Trayvon Martin, an unarmed black teenager, in a gated Florida community has raised allegations
of racial injustice and highlighted the burden that 'Stand Your Ground' laws impose on law enforcement officers.
By Patrik Jonsson, Staff writer / March 16, 2012

ATLANTA

For many tuning in across the nation, the shooting late last month in Florida of an unarmed black teenager by a suspicious neighborhood watch captain looks like a racially motivated murder.

That's why the decision by the police not to arrest George Zimmerman for getting out of his car and shooting Trayvon Martin in the middle of a gated neighborhood in Sanford, Fla., on Feb. 26 has raised allegations of racial injustice and profiling.

The shooting has sparked a nationwide protest petition, the involvement of a black militia group, and, on Friday, a call by the parents of the slain teenager for the FBI to investigate the handling of the case, which police have handed off to state investigators.

The shooting also presents a tragic snapshot of so-called "Stand Your Ground" laws, what critics call “license-to-murder.”

Such laws eliminate the English Law concept of a “duty to retreat” from dangerous situations outside the home. Without that, an armed citizen has no obligation to stand down in the face of a threat.

The problem, as the Martin case highlights, is that making the duty to retreat "totally irrelevant," as Stetson University law professor Robert Batey has said, means the law gives prosecutors fewer factors to consider when determining self-defense, including, potentially, the extent to which a person claiming self-defense may have aggravated the situation.

Florida became the first state to pass a specific Stand Your Ground law in 2005, essentially expanding self-defense zones from the home to most public places. Seventeen states now have such laws.

“It's hard to imagine that this couldn't have been resolved by [Mr. Zimmerman] leaving, so that no one would've gotten hurt, so this is a case where the Stand Your Ground law can actually make a legal difference,” says former federal prosecutor Jeffrey Bellin, a law professor at Southern Methodist University, in Dallas.

“Even if you have suspicions about what motivated this, and you think there was a racial element and no justification for this shooting, the fact is he had no obligation to retreat under the law,” he notes. “If prosecutors don't have the evidence to disprove the claim of self-defense, they won't be able to win.”

But for the parents of the victim, and some 240,000 people who have signed a petition for a federal investigation on the Change.org website, the bare facts of the case suggest that Zimmerman was the aggressor and that the failure to arrest him points to covert racism and an abdication of authority by the local police department.

In a press conference Friday, Trayvon Martin's parents said they no longer had any faith in the Sanford Police Department and called on the FBI to take over the investigation.

"We're not getting any closure, any answers, and it's very disturbing,” Tracy Martin, Trayvon's father, said. “As a father, I'm hurt. I feel betrayed by the Sanford Police Department."

Meanwhile, tensions are roiling in the area as several large rallies and protests are being planned and a black militia group has vowed to place the shooter under citizen's arrest. The state has said it may take several weeks to complete its review of the case.

On Feb. 26, Zimmerman, 28, a self-appointed block watch captain in The Retreat at Twin Lakes, a gated community in Sanford, just outside Orlando, called 911 from his car to report a suspicious person – a black man wearing a hoodie – walking slowly through the neighborhood. The 911 operator, according to police, told Zimmerman to wait for police to arrive. The man in the hoodie was Trayvon, returning to his family's house from buying Skittles and an iced tea at a local convenience store.

Instead of waiting for police, Zimmerman exited the car and shot Trayvon after a brief altercation. Trayvon, 17, had no previous criminal record, while Zimmerman recently had a 2005 felony arrest for assault on a police officer expunged by the courts.

"Had Trayvon Martin been the triggerman, they would have arrested him day one, hour one and he would be in jail with no bail,” Ben Crump, a Tallahassee lawyer representing the family, told the Florida Courier.

"We have a murderer on the streets, walking around," Natalie Jackson, another lawyer representing the family, said on Friday.

Sanford Police Chief Bill Lee told the Orlando Sentinel that he had no grounds to arrest Zimmerman, and told reporters Thursday that that he has invited the US Department of Justice and the Florida Department of Law Enforcement to review the investigation. Florida officials confirmed they began an investigation on March 13.

"It's an open book," Mr. Lee said. "If they want to look at what we did and how we did it and what information we have, they're welcome to it."

Police have released little information, including the 911 tapes, about what happened that night and no details about how Trayvon and Zimmerman ended up grappling. What has been revealed is that before an officer arrived, Trayvon and Zimmerman got into a fight, according to police, witnesses heard one or both calling for help, and Zimmerman shot Trayvon once in the chest with a 9 mm handgun.

One witness said he came upon the scene and saw Zimmerman on his back on the ground, which jibes with statements by the police that he was covered in grass and blood. Another witness has said in a TV interview that “there was no punching, no hitting going on at the time, no wrestling,” but police say that witness gave an official account to them that jibed with Zimmerman's story.

In a letter to the Orlando Sentinel on Friday, Zimmerman's father, Robert Zimmerman, wrote that his son is part-Hispanic “with many black family members and friends.” He also pushed back at the idea that Zimmerman was the aggressor who instigated the altercation.

"At no time did George follow or confront Mr. Martin," he wrote. "When the true details of the event become public, and I hope that will be soon, everyone should be outraged by the treatment of George Zimmerman in the media."

The emotional stakes, racial backdrop, and the awkward position of the police department suggest how state laws broadening self-defense rights can backfire. But whether it's a prosecutor or a jury deciding the outcome of a case, self-defense arguments are often powerful and difficult to disprove beyond a reasonable doubt, even in jurisdictions without Stand Your Ground laws.

“This is a tragedy, and to the extent the law plays a role in encouraging this type of situation to happen, it calls into question the law,” says Professor Bellin. “At the same time, it's not clear that if this happens in a jurisdiction where there isn't a Stand Your Ground law, that you necessarily get a different result.”

© The Christian Science Monitor


Trayvon Martin: Zimmerman was not following Neighborhood Watch 'rules'

'There's no reason to carry a gun' director says

By Susan Jacobson, Orlando Sentinel March 24, 2012

Neighborhood Watch evokes scenes of get-to-know-you barbecues and folks keeping an eye on neighbors' homes while they're out of town or working late.

Until last month, it did not conjure images of teenagers being shot to death by the people who run a program designed to help keep communities safe.

Then George Zimmerman, who coordinated the Neighborhood Watch at a town-house community in Sanford, shot and killed unarmed Miami Gardens high-school student Trayvon Martin on Feb. 26, sparking a collective rage that has spread nationwide and beyond.

Chris Tutko, director of Neighborhood Watch for the National Sheriffs' Association, said Zimmerman broke some cardinal rules.

First, he approached a stranger he suspected of wrongdoing.

"If you see something suspicious, you report it, you step aside and you let law enforcement do their job," Tutko said. "This guy went way beyond the call of duty. At the least, he's overzealous."

Second, Zimmerman carried a handgun. Police departments and sheriff's offices that train volunteers advise them never to carry weapons — though Zimmerman broke no laws by doing so because he has a concealed-weapons permit.

"There's no reason to carry a gun," Tutko said.

Police said Zimmerman was running an errand in his SUV — with his gun — when he first spotted Trayvon walking back from 7-Eleven about 7:15 p.m. Zimmerman called police to report Trayvon as suspicious, and although a dispatcher said he didn't need to follow the teen, the two got into a scuffle.

Zimmerman shot Trayvon once in the chest with a 9 mm handgun, officers said. The 17-year-old died steps from the home of his father's fiancée, where he had been visiting. Zimmerman claimed self-defense and was not arrested. Because of public outrage, a special prosecutor, the U.S. Department of Justice and the FBI are investigating.

What it is — and what it's not

Now, with Neighborhood Watch in the spotlight, organizers want people to know what it is — and what it is not.

"I'm disappointed that people are trying to put blame onto the program when it's not the program's fault," said Wendy Dorival, who coordinates volunteer programs, including Neighborhood Watch, for the Sanford police. "Neighborhood Watch is not what took his life away."

The program was created in 1972 by the National Sheriffs' Association to help prevent crime as people relocated more often and more women entered the work force, loosening community ties. After the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks, the initiative expanded to include emergency response, terrorism awareness and disaster preparedness.

Its core mission has not changed, however: to build a sense of togetherness so people care enough to look after one another.

Some Neighborhood Watch groups patrol their communities. Others simply observe in the course of their daily routine and report anything out of the ordinary to law enforcement.

The Neighborhood Watch at Retreat at Twin Lakes, where Zimmerman lived and was chosen as coordinator by his neighbors, was formed in September, Dorival said. It is not registered with the national group, but there is no registration requirement. The Sanford Police Department provides training and community signs, and informs residents about crime trends and prevention.

Zimmerman raised no red flags during an organizational meeting Sept. 22, and no one had complained about him before the shooting, Dorival said.

Sanford and the Volusia County Sheriff's Office have another volunteer program called Citizens on Patrol. In Volusia, those volunteers ride two to a Sheriff's Office-issued car. They undergo background and driver checks, an hourlong interview and 60 hours of training.

"We don't want any cop wannabes or people thinking they're going out and acting like cops and making arrests," sheriff's spokesman Gary Davidson said. "If we think that's the motivation, we're going to weed them out."

Neighborhood Watch, by contrast, is less formal and is run by residents — although volunteers in both programs are told not to confront anyone. Their job is to observe and describe suspicious people or cars to law officers and help make their neighbors aware of problems.

"We tell people, 'Don't be a hero,'" Dorival said. "Don't risk it."

Watch group improved other Sanford neighborhood

Sherry Davis, coordinator of Lordland Neighborhood Watch near Sanford, credits the group with ridding her community of prostitution and drugs.

"The Neighborhood Watch around here has been a really good thing because it has slowed the drug activity," said Davis, 48, a grandmother of 13. "If it's here, it's not as open as it was."

Some Neighborhood Watches meet monthly. Others meet every six months, for occasional social gatherings or not at all, Dorival said.

The Orlando Police Department and the Orange County Sheriff's Office require groups to meet twice a year and have participation from 40 percent of the homes in a watch area. The annual National Night Out anticrime block party counts as one meeting.

Coordinators such as Zimmerman assign block captains, act as liaisons to their law-enforcement agency's crime-prevention specialist and disseminate information to residents. They often are described as an extra set of eyes and ears for officers who can't be everywhere at once.

"The police can't do it all," said Tutko, who has spent four decades in law enforcement. "They need the people to be involved. As tragic as this situation is, I still think Neighborhood Watch is the best way for citizens to get involved in their communities."

sjacobson@tribune.com

Copyright © 2012, Orlando Sentinel


Trayvon Martin's killing shatters safety within Retreat at Twin Lakes in Sanford

By Lane DeGregory, Times Staff Writer: Sunday, March 25, 2012


Cheryl Brown, with the family’s boxer, Sake, says she and her family are rattled by the fatal shooting inside their gated community.
SANFORD

These days, Cheryl Brown has to walk the dog. • For a month — ever since her son heard someone screaming for help and her daughter called 911 and everyone heard the loud snap of a gunshot — Brown's children have been afraid to go outside. • Her youngest daughter, who is 9, won't even look out the window. She keeps seeing the dead teen's body. • "That could have so easily been my son," said Brown. "He wears hoodies all the time."

Brown, a 40-year-old single mom who says she is "mostly black," moved into the Retreat at Twin Lakes last year. She chose the gated subdivision of identical townhomes because it is racially diverse, lots of children live there and, she said, "it seemed so safe."

Then, on Feb. 26, neighborhood watch captain George Zimmerman shot and killed Trayvon Martin, 17, as he walked from a 7-Eleven with iced tea and a bag of Skittles. Now, Brown's children linger inside. And she does dog duty.

On Wednesday, her white boxer, Sake, led her along the sidewalk, then turned onto a manicured path stretching between two rows of townhouses. Brown stopped and pointed to a patch of shade beneath a scrawny maple tree.

"This is where Trayvon was killed," she said. "He was almost home."

No blood stains the grass where he lay. No flowers or football or Skittles have been placed there to remember the teenager whose death has sparked a national outcry.

A memorial of balloons, teddy bears and cans of Arizona Iced Tea is growing outside the front gate.

Inside the fence, everything still looks the same. Except it's not.

The building of the Retreat at Twin Lakes is a classic Florida story.

Developers saw potential in the sandy acres east of Orlando and determined to turn them into an oasis. They planned a gated subdivision just 10 minutes from downtown — a cloistered community near the interstate, close to good schools, outlet malls and the magic of Disney World.

The idea, as always, was that people could live peacefully in a paradise where nobody could park a car on the street or paint the house an odd color.

In 2004, Engle Homes began construction on 263 two-story townhouses, with upstairs porches and covered back patios and plenty of green space. Inside, the townhomes boasted granite countertops, hardwood floors, master suites and walk-in closets. Outside, there was a pond, a clubhouse and a community pool.

Everything was walled in, to keep out the unknown.

"With its modern Florida architecture, this secluded, gated community is like living in a resort," a spokesmodel says in a promotional video posted on YouTube. "It's the perfect choice for those looking for space and comfort."

The initial cost of a 1,400-square-foot townhome and the pass code to that front gate: $250,000. Today, post-boom, the price has dipped below $100,000.

• • •

George Zimmerman, 28, moved into the Retreat in the summer of 2009 with his wife, Shellie. Records show he worked at a pressure-washing company, though neighbors said they never saw a truck.

Right away, he started calling the police. The 911 operators translated his complaints into the bloodless shorthand of law enforcement.

Aug. 26, 2009: "Male driving with no headlights on."

Sept. 22, 2009: "Yellow speed bike doing wheelies."

Oct. 23, 2009: "Aggressive white and brown pit bull."

The transcripts of Zimmerman's 911 calls during the more than two years he lived on Retreat View Circle fill 28 pages. His concerns include everything from the driver of a pickup cutting off people to a neighbor leaving his garage door open.

He kept a close watch for outsiders, but it couldn't have been easy to tell who belonged and who didn't. When the housing market crashed, many townhomes were foreclosed on and the owners evicted. Dozens of investors, unable to unload the two- and three-bedroom properties, rented them to cover their upside-down mortgages.

The developers had envisioned a stable neighborhood with home*owners planting long-term roots, but now townhouses were turning over all the time. Insiders moved out. Outsiders moved in.

By the time Zimmerman shot Trayvon Martin, 40 properties inside the gate were empty and more than half of the residents were renters.

Including Brandy Green, who was dating Martin's dad. And Zimmerman himself.

Trayvon Martin lived with his dad, who resides in the Miami area, and had visited his dad's girlfriend at the Retreat several times before. The kids in the neighborhood always looked forward to playing football with him. But to George Zimmerman, he was a stranger.

• • •

Last summer, residents reported three burglaries at the Retreat, said Sanford police volunteer coordinator Wendy Dorival. At the time, workers were repairing cracks in some of the buildings. Some residents worried they were leaving their ladders up — and teenagers in the Retreat were using them to break into upstairs windows. Others feared outsiders were sneaking in.

Gated communities aren't really any safer than other neighborhoods, said David Morgenstern, spokesman for the Sanford Police Department. "Crime is comparable no matter where you go. All that gate does is make the people who live in that community feel better.

"If a criminal wants to get in, they can."

It's not hard. Drivers draft behind residents with remote control passes, following them before the gates swing closed. Old renters retain the pass code and share it. Landscapers, pizza delivery people and repairmen all have access.

After the break-ins, Zimmerman's calls to 911 seemed to shift, zeroing in on black males. Were black males actually responsible for any of the crimes reported in the Retreat? Impossible to say. Morgenstern, the police spokesman, said last week that he was too overwhelmed with media requests to get the arrest records on individual cases.

In police argot, anyone Zimmerman called about was a "suspicious person," but of course it was Zimmerman who was suspicious.

Aug. 3, 2011: "Black male with white tank top and black shorts … (Zimmerman) believes subject is involved in recent (burglaries) in the neighborhood."

Aug. 6, 2011: "Two black males, one wearing black tank top … are near the back gate of the neighborhood."

In September, the Sanford police helped the Retreat start a neighborhood watch program.

"Some residents called me wanting to do a startup," said Dorival, a civilian police employee. About 30 people came to the clubhouse for that first session, she said. "Everyone was enthusiastic." Zimmerman volunteered to be captain.

"I told them, this is not about being a vigilante police force," Dorival said. "You're not even supposed to patrol on neighborhood watch. And you're certainly not supposed to carry a gun."

For the first two months of this year, at the Retreat at Twin Lakes, the Sanford police logged 51 calls for service. Half were just people requesting information. The others included eight burglaries, two bike thefts and three simple assaults.

Zimmerman's last 911 call came on Feb. 26, at 7:11 p.m. "Black male, late teens, dark gray hoodie, jeans or sweatpants walking around area," the dispatcher recorded. A minute later: "Subject now running towards back entrance of complex."

On a recording of the call, you can hear Zimmerman say, "He's got his hand in his waistband. Something is wrong with him." Then, "He's running toward the back entrance."

The dispatcher told Zimmerman not to follow him. A patrol officer was on the way.

Minutes later, other residents at the Retreat started calling:

"A guy's yelling for help."

"I just heard a gunshot right outside our house."

"I don't hear any more screaming."

"I'm pretty sure the guy's dead out here."

"This is, like, a nice neighborhood. Oh my god! Why would someone just kill someone like that?"

• • •

Cheryl Brown was at a Walmart that night when her daughter called, crying. She hurried home to find police blocking the gates to her subdivision. She parked her car across the street and ran to her kids.

Her son, Austin, was hysterical. He had been right there, walking the dog, when he heard the cry for help. But then Sake had pulled off the leash. As her son chased the boxer, he had heard the gunshot.

"What if the dog hadn't gotten loose? What if he had tried to help? My son is 13," Brown said. "He looks a lot like Trayvon."

For her son's whole life, Brown said, she has told him: If someone's chasing you, run. "What if it's a kidnapper? Or someone trying to beat or rob you?" she asked.

She stopped walking the dog and shook her head. "But if he runs, does that make him even more suspicious?" Brown wiped her eyes. "What makes someone suspicious? That's what worries me the most."

• • •

Every building at the Retreat at Twin Lakes is painted some shade of brown: taupe, terra cotta, khaki. Every townhome has a garage out front and a keypad on the door handle — so if someone steals your keys they can't get inside. Dozens of yards have signs alerting would-be intruders of alarm systems.

"It is a peaceful place. We don't have problems here," Tito Ortiz, 62, said the other day beside his mailbox. A former minister, Ortiz remarried five years ago and bought a house in the Retreat for his new bride. Somewhere they would be safe to grow old together.

"I don't know what happened with that boy. I'm so surprised that happened here," he said. But he doesn't worry about staying in the neighborhood and has no intention of moving. "We are still going to find our peace here."

Many residents of the gated community declined to talk to reporters. Others were eager to give their opinions, but not their names. Several said they had started carrying guns.

No one had seen Zimmerman. Or Trayvon Martin's dad. Except on the news.

Jamie Meyers, 26, and her two preschoolers walked through the neighborhood to place silk violets on the teenager's memorial. She and her husband moved here two years ago to be behind a gate, to be surrounded by other families with kids. "We're thinking about moving now," said Meyers, who teaches middle school. "We don't want to stay here, in a place something like this could happen."

The next day, on the other side of the complex, Thomas Ransburg, 20, was outside talking to his girlfriend. Ransburg has lived behind the gate since January, he said, and sees no reason to move now.

A few months ago, he was hanging out with a friend who lives in another townhouse. "But that day, he forgot his key," said Ransburg. So they walked around to the back patio and opened the sliding glass door. Someone saw them and called the police. They spent four hours at the station, trying to convince investigators his friend really lived there. "They thought we were trying to rob it or something," he said.

Ransburg, who is black and wears long dreadlocks, laughed at the memory, swore it didn't make him angry, and said he understood. "I don't think it was racial," he said. "I guess we just looked suspicious. Everyone's always been real friendly back here. People smile and wave. All the little kids run around. There's always laughter."

Just then, three teenage males walked through the unlocked side gate, down the walkway toward Ransburg. T.J. Jones and his twin brother, T.Y., 14, and their cousin James Young, 13, have lived in the complex for two years. Their moms moved here from apartments to give the boys more room and a safe place to play.

The boys, who are black, used to play football with Trayvon Martin "right there on that grass where he died," said T.Y.

He told Ransburg that their mom won't let them outside after dark anymore. She is worried someone might think they are "suspicious or something," said T.J. "She keeps telling us to be careful."

Ransburg nodded, and pointed at the townhouse across the street. "You see that door? That's my door," he told the boys. "If anyone is ever bothering you or following you, if you ever feel scared, that's my door. Knock on it. I'll be there to get your back."

• • •

The community pool was empty that afternoon. So was the clubhouse. On the bulletin board, there were two fliers. One was a notice from the homeowners' association: "All residents are part of the Neighborhood Watch program and are encouraged to get to know your neighbors and look out for one another! … There is also a neighborhood watch meeting with Officer Wendy on Thursday, March 29th, 7 p.m."

The other flier said simply, "Neighborhood Watch meeting canceled."

Lane DeGregory can be reached at degregory@tampabay.com or (727) 893-8825. Times researcher Caryn Baird contributed to this report.

© 2012 Tampa Bay Times