Freedom of the press

The Mighty Pen

/ johncarvalho56 / Leave a comment

On May 9, 1962, sophomore Jim Dinsmore penned a column, “Cluttered Heart Cries for Expression on Issues,” in The Auburn Plainsman. The column wandered over a variety of topics. One paragraph would ignite a firestorm.

That was it. A single paragraph on integration that turned out to be accurate in its forecast.

But meetings and statements and letters later, Dinsmore would step aside from the newspaper staff for a year. He would be disqualified from running for editor, probably because of that column. And The Plainsman would be suspended from summer publication for the only time in its history, perhaps because of that column.

When the article came out, the AP quoted President Ralph Draughon as saying Dinsmore “has no limits on extremism. He doesn’t represent the thinking of the institution.” Dean of Students James Foy described Dinsmore as “highly intellectual, and highly confused.”

The Publications Board (predecessor to today’s Board of Student Communications), met on Friday, May 17, to discuss how to respond to the column. The chair, Foy, was also concerned with the sentence that followed the integration paragraph: “On the state of Alabama: At the present time it can only be characterized as a haven of general ignorance, prejudice, and narrowmindedness.”

Paired with the fear-inducing mention of integration, it had the Publications Board running scared — of the Board of Trustees, and even the Alabama Legislature.

Professor Paul Burnett, who taught journalism classes within the English Department, “reminded the Board that the Trustees considered last spring the discontinuance of the newspaper” (after a pro-integration column by editor Jim Bullington), according to meeting minutes.

Burnett was afraid that the Trustees would suspend Plainsman publication for the next academic year if the Board did not take action.

He was not overstating the hazard. The year before, after Bullington’s pro-integration column, the board had stipulated that before any article “having a bearing on the good name of Auburn University” was published, the editor would advise Dean Foy.

Draughon took the board’s action to mean that Foy could direct The Plainsman editor not to run such an article, and the editor would have to comply. In other words, the board and Draughon said Foy was empowered to censor The Plainsman.

Draughon told Foy to inform Bullington that if he failed to follow this directive, he would be removed from office as editor. (Bullington never submitted an article to Foy for review and would step down as editor shortly before the end of spring quarter 1962 and before the board could remove him.)

In addition, Draughon warned, “If further instances should occur, The Plainsman would have to be discontinued,” Foy wrote to Bullington in a letter that is included in the archives with the Publications Board minutes. So Burnett’s fears were strongly founded.

(In the letter Foy, trying to begin with a conciliatory tone, informed Bullington that his ODK shield signifying his membership in the honorary would be arriving soon. Then he dropped the presidential beatdown.)

The Board voted to reprimand Dinsmore for writing the article and Bullington for allowing its publication. They did not suspend Dinsmore from the newspaper staff, however, because they didn’t have to.

During the debate, incoming Plainsman editor Charles McCay “stated that he hoped he would not have to bring this up, but first of all Jim Dinsmore and he thought that it would be to the best interest of everyone concerned if he would not write for The Plainsman next year,” the minutes noted.

So The Plainsman editor half-suspended Dinsmore, and Dinsmore half-suspended himself. But in fact he did not write for The Plainsman that next academic year.

At its meeting the week before, the day the Dinsmore article came out, the Publications Board had noted that no qualified editor candidates had stepped forward to edit the summer edition. Two candidates had applied, but the board considered them unqualified, whether by lack of experience or lack of coursework.

So the board voted not to publish The Plainsman for summer quarter 1962. No provision was made to wait and seek a more qualified candidate.

Did the Dinsmore column firestorm cause the Board to seek a cooling down, Plainsman-free summer quarter, with the candidate situation providing a convenient excuse? The minutes don’t say; still, this is the only time that happened. The Plainsman has produced a smaller issue, in print or later online, every summer since.

This drama had its epilogue in spring quarter 1963. Dinsmore tried to run for editor, but his application was disqualified because it had arrived a day late.

In a letter to the editor that ran in the March 27, 1963 edition (whether by Foy’s permission or not is uncertain), Dinsmore explained that he had spent spring break at home for minor surgery. His mother had mailed the application before the deadline, but it had arrived after.

Dinsmore acknowledged his procrastination in the letter (an eternal theme with college students). But he noted that late applications had been accepted in the past and he argued that he had “submitted” the application before the deadline, as stated in Publications Board policies.

His mistake, of course, was giving the Publications Board a quick and easy excuse to reject his application without having to address the column of the year before.

Dinsmore would go on to make one more statement about integration. At the beginning of winter quarter 1964, the day Harold Franklin was allowed to register, students were warned to leave him alone as he walked from his dorm room to the library.

But two members of The Auburn Plainsman staff approached him as he left the library and welcomed him to Auburn. They were detained and questioned by police and released. One was Bobby Boettcher, yet another pro-integration columnist.

The other was Jim Dinsmore.

 

Why Was the Ukwuachu Indictment Sealed?

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(UPDATED Feb. 11 to add Twitter conversation with Paula Lavigne, author of the OTL piece on Baylor)

Since the August conviction of Sam Ukwuachu for sexual assault, much has been written about Baylor and its response to investigating sexual assault, especially those involving athletes.

But a question has remained since August 2015, when Ukwuachu was convicted and then later sentenced: Why was crucial public information regarding Ukwuachu’s indictment withheld in June 2014? Who withheld it? Why?

More important, why is nobody asking why?

He was indicted for the crime, whose victim was an unidentified Baylor athlete, on June 25, 2014.  The list of indictments for that date does not include his name among the 100-plus released.

What happened was that Ukwuachu apparently was indicted first, then arrested and charged via a “direct indictment,” which shields the suspect and others from the open records of a pre-indictment arrest report.  The name was then redacted from the indictment list released to the public.

According to the attorneys that I talked to, a direct indictment, or any such situation where the case is sealed, is usually used when a juvenile or someone else involved in the case (usually the victim) needs shielding for their own protection.

Under what logic could that be applied to Ukwuachu’s case?  Concern for the victim?  The other sexual assault cases also involved victims, but the DA’s office did not seem to show the same reticence in publishing the names of those defendants.

And anyway, this is all speculation without a specific arrest report.  Remember that the information gap existed between the unreported indictment and the week before the trial began.  The arrest, never reported, falls into the same void.

UPDATE: After reading Paula Lavigne’s Outside the Lines report on Baylor’s response to sexual assault cases involving athletes, I linked her to this article and asked her if she had any idea why the Ukwuachu indictment had been sealed.  She replied via Twitter:

Screen Shot 2016-02-11 at 4.56.05 PM

I do appreciate Lavigne’s taking the time to reply, but I don’t see the connection between an unreported indictment/arrest and a gag order.  A gag order is a frequent ruling in a high-profile trial.  But it relates to behavior outside of the court, not to the release of arrest information.

If the judge did want to limit public comments on the case, why not release the indictment/arrest (as is typically done) and simultaneously issue a gag order to all participants, as the judge did when Ukwuachu’s trial actually began?  Wouldn’t that accomplish the same goal, while providing the Waco and Baylor communities with important information?

Still, with the indictment information not released, as she pointed out, the Waco Tribune-Herald would not be in a position to know about the indictment:

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(NOTE: The rest of these paragraphs were part of the original post.)

The on-campus student affairs office investigation had apparently been closed by the time of the indictment.  The various reports do not give specific dates on that investigation, but a university representative said they try to complete them within 60 days of reporting.

Were Baylor student affairs personnel aware of Ukuwachu’s indictment?  Would this provide the “new information” that allows a university to reopen a disciplinary case?

The broader issue here involves the openness of the legal system.  The Supreme Court has defended the open courts system — setting some sky-high hurdles for closing a trial.  That’s not a service to the media; it’s a right of the people.

Always, but especially these days, Americans need to know what is going on with their legal system.  When information is withheld, there needs to be an excellent reason for it.  Otherwise citizens might lose faith in the fairness of their legal system.

Now that they know, however, the media need to treat this more seriously.  It involves the withholding of sexual assault-related information to the Baylor and Waco community — to young women, to their parents.  It hindered the media from doing their job.

This editorial from the Waco Tribune-Herald asks some important, direct questions, but seems to breeze past the issue of the sealed indictment with little acknowledgement, as if it were a mundane legal procedure instead of an ethical decision that deserves scrutiny.

Perhaps there is a good reason for sealing the indictment and not disclosing the arrest, and if that reason is offered, I will share it.  (Update: Seven months later, a satisfactory reason still has not been shared.)  For now, it looks like the same cozy relationship between police and college football team that has been cited and criticized on other campuses — though for an issue like sexual assault, it is particularly unthinkable that any college or its surrounding community would tolerate the strategy used by the Waco police and DA.

Even more frustrating is when no one cares enough to ask DA Abel Reyna or Assistant DA LaBorde.

Baylor has faced and has tried to answer a lot of questions following the Ukwuachu and Tevin Elliott cases.

Let’s not ignore questions about another question: a published indictment list that omitted the name of an accused felon.

 

The Watchdog vs. The (Baylor) Bear

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The Texas Monthly expose on Baylor and Sam Ukwuachu will produce enough troubling questions — for head coach Art Briles and Baylor associate dean Bethany McCraw in particular.

The story, or lack of it, should also trouble sports journalists.  According to reports, the assault happened in October 2013.  The Waco Police Department did not press charges and sent the case to the district attorney for evaluation.  In March 2014, the assistant DA Hilary Laborde decided to move ahead.  On June 25, 2014, a grand jury indicted Ukwuachu, and he was arrested.

This Deadspin article, great work by Diana Moskovitz, provides helpful details, including a copy of the true bill of indictment returned by the grand jury.

This is where things begin to get murky.

As Moskovitz points out, prosecutors’ choice to go the grand jury route does invite questions, because a grand jury process is, by nature and law, more secretive than a public arrest.  When an athlete, or any suspect, is arrested, the accompanying mugshots, and sometimes even “perp walks,” draw attention.

Still, in McLennan County, once someone is indicted, it is publicized.  Supposedly.

The Waco Tribune-Herald posts indictments twice a month to its website, and those indictments remain available for public viewing.  The report of June 25, 2014, indictments, when Ukwuachu was indicted, mentions more than 100 names, and five specifically mention some form of sexual abuse.

Ukwuachu’s name does not appear in this list. Why not? Was the name redacted from the list before it was given to the Waco newspaper?

According to Texas Monthly, when the requested information on Ukwuachu’s indictment and arrest, the received “a letter declaring that all information outside of the Incident Report following Doe’s visit to Hillcrest Hospital the day after her encounter with Ukwuachu was exempt from the law requiring disclosure.”

Still, if that’s the case, under what judgment was Ukwuachu’s name deleted from a public list, and not the rest?  If it’s exempt from “the law requiring disclosure,” why publicize indictments at all?  The 100-plus folks whose arrests were publicized would wish they got the same break as Ukuwuachu.

True, McLennan County DA Abelino Reyna is a 1997 graduate of Baylor Law School. With no specific response on his office’s part, however, the question remains, and is troubling.

It should also be mentioned that the prosecuting DA, LaBorde, also went to Baylor, but that did not stop her from investigating and then prosecuting Ukwuachu

I have reached out to the Waco Tribune-Herald via e-mail.  The McLennan County DA’s office (no e-mail listed) has refused all interview requests.

The first report appeared in the Tribune-Herald on Aug. 5, more than 13 months after the indictments were handed down.  The lag time invites questions, particularly related to the local newspaper’s function as a watchdog.

As any competent sports writer, college or pro, will tell you, the good reporters know how to uncover such information. Whether through strategic Web searches or well-placed sources, they know when players are arrested amazingly soon after it happens and can guide their readers through the court process.

Court-related documents are available online through databases like Scribd, as Moskovitz demonstrated in her article.

But before casting too much blame on the newspaper, realize that no reporter’s system can do everything, and an insular community like Waco is a prime culture to thwart such information gathering.  For whatever reason, the public did not learn of the announcement until twelve days before the trial itself began.

According to the Deadspin article, Judge Matt Johnson did issue a gag order, but that did not happen until Aug. 7 of this year, shortly before the trial began.

As the handling of the Ukwuachu case is discussed, concern will be directed at Baylor personnel, who admitted a player with problems at his previous school.  Dan Wolken rightly took Briles to task in a USA Today column for putting Ukwuachu’s victim, and every female at Baylor, at risk by allowing him to transfer in.

This concern relates closely to constitutional guarantees for open trials.  This right belongs not to the media, but to the public.  Community members have a right to know what is going on in matters that relate to their public safety, and it is the news media’s duty to provide that information.

When information is withheld from the public, as it was in the list of indictments published on the WacoTrib.com website, the system has failed, and citizens deserve to know how and why.