Law And Justice In Mississippi
Attorney Andrew Cohen analyzes legal issues for CBS News and CBSNews.com.
It was over so quickly that you might think that the jurors and the witnesses and the judge and the lawyers all had non-refundable tickets for a cruise somewhere and weren't willing to miss their planes for a simple murder trial. Edgar Ray Killen, the Mississippi Burning defendant, was tried and convicted of manslaughter in just a few days, less time than it takes most lawyers to pick a jury for a murder case.
Killen was convicted of manslaughter, not murder, for whatever role he played in the deaths of three civil rights workers who were brutally murdered 41 years ago to the day near Philadelphia, Miss. He was convicted even though there was very little strong evidence against him. He was convicted even though his jury initially was deadlocked at 6-6 after only a few short hours of deliberations. He was convicted even though he is old and sick and almost pitiful until you realize who he was and what he represented a generation ago.
There is nothing particularly complicated about the result here. In the end the jurors weren't poring over the fine points of Mississippi state law or contemplating the different elements that distinguish murder from manslaughter. If this had been the case, the deliberations would have lasted a lot longer. No, in the end, these jurors wanted to send a message that says that they believe beyond a reasonable doubt that Killen had something to do with those long-ago murders — even if the details aren't exactly clear after all this time.
It's a black message and a white message since Killen's jury this time was interracial, unlike his last jury, in 1967, which was made up only of whites. It was a legal message and a political message and an historical message. The Ghosts of Mississippi now can rest a little easier. The complete story may never be known or told. But now at least this chapter seems to have been wrapped up, as neatly as an old, hazy tale told by old men and old women can be.
It's a message that clearly will resonate with Killen who, as a practical matter, now faces a death sentence of sorts. Manslaughter may be a lesser crime than murder but it is still a serious felony. And it is nearly inconceivable, given the crimes here, that Killen will be sentenced to anything short of significant prison time, despite the fact that he is in a wheelchair and needs help breathing. If the judge sentences him even to just a fraction of the 20-year maximum sentence it seems unlikely that Killen ever will get out of prison alive. His only chance, it seems, is to win on appeal and while that is more likely in this case than in most cases because of some curious rulings by the trial judge, it is still unlikely.
Just before the verdict was announced, the judge polled the individual jurors to determine whether the verdict was, in fact, accurate. Normally, this is done after a verdict is read and so there is very little tension that surrounds it. But this time, the pre-reading poll just heightened the tension. And there on the television screen during the long pause was Killen's face, sometimes contorted in pain, sometimes drooping off, but its craggy lines showing very little of the emotion you might expect someone to have in that moment when a life can turn.
As the man and his moment met, what was he thinking? Was he thinking of that day 41 years ago? Was he thinking about the choices he had made in his long life that had brought him to the dock? Was he remembering what it was like back in the 1960s to be a Klan leader in the South? Was he thinking about those young boys who died such horrible deaths? We probably won't ever learn the answers to those questions either. But once Killen is no longer free, once he is finally serving time for his long-ago crime, the search for answers won't be nearly as haunting as it has been for all these decades.
Forty-one years to the date of the crime, and 38 years after Killen's first trial ended with a mistrial, Mississippi finally got another chance to speak out about the man and his times. And this time, 12 citizens of that state, men and women, blacks and whites, spoke with a voice that the rest of the country could understand. Come to think of it, that's a legacy that would have made those three brave young boys, heroes and symbols of a movement, quite proud.
By Andrew Cohen