One of the political causes Conspiracy championed during our time together was that of a man falsely accused of murder.
I had talked to the guy a few times at the Yale Afro-American Cultural Center. He was soft-spoken and sweet, in an odd way. I couldn't quite put my finger on what made him odd ... until after his arrest, when Conspiracy shared his history.
At the age of 15, he had been convicted of shooting and killing a Yale student. When I met him, he was in his early thirties and had only been out of jail for a few months. It now made perfect sense. Forever Fifteen looked like a grown man, but had the mannerisms of a sweet, shy teenager who was just starting to explore the world.
Within months of his release, Forever Fifteen was arrested again. Once again, the charge was murder. But this time, the pieces didn't fit. It was a street crime, and Forever Fifteen wasn't out running the streets. The police report described someone with a different hairstyle. The evidence was all he said-she said.
Conspiracy believed the cops targeted Forever Fifteen and railroaded him back to jail simply because he had once killed a Yale student. Putting him back in jail – guilty or not – was a way of appeasing the dead Yalie's grieving parents.
So he organized the Committee to Free Forever Fifteen, and I became one of its members by default.
Conspiracy printed up flyers, talked to anyone who would listen about the case and organized a protest on Forever Fifteen's behalf. It drew less than a dozen people, myself included. But that small showing was enough. Enough to create an irresistible, popcorn-and-peanuts scent that attracted clowns.
It was the scent of publicity, and it turned the cause into a behind-the-scenes circus.
A New Haven Register article profiled the case. (It featured a photo of me holding a Free Forever Fifteen sign. I looked absolutely crazy due to a hairstyle experiment gone wrong.) There was also an article in The New York Times on Conspiracy's new cause and his days as a revolutionary.
A parade of spotlight-hungry characters came on board. Chief among them was a woman – a much-older woman – who muscled her way in and later married Forever Fifteen. (Conspiracy sneered disparagingly that she didn't even grant conjugal visits to Forever Fifteen, whose experience with women was limited at best.)
Territorial squabbling ensued, with various members trying to call the shots. Conspiracy's motive was pure: He wanted to right an injustice. Just not enough to put up with a bunch of self-serving, bickering Negroes squawking about his every decision. Rather than facing down the dysfunction, Conspiracy resigned from the group that he founded.
I silently and secretly judged him for this. It became another one of the flaws that made me look at Conspiracy in a less-favorable light. How could he abandon Forever Fifteen and leave his defense to a pack of noisy incompetents? Shouldn't Conspiracy finish what he started?
But, as usual, I said nothing.
The results were predictably sad.
Forever Fifteen was convicted of murder and sentenced to life imprisonment. Mostly because he acted as his own lawyer and spent his court time complaining about the bologna sandwiches he was forced to eat in jail.
Years later, a new eyewitness emerged and testified that Forever Fifteen was not involved. Granted a new trial, with freedom within reach, Forever Fifteen again insisted on defending himself.
He is still serving a life sentence.
And for the record, I no longer judge Conspiracy for backing away from this lost cause.
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