Monday – The Murders That Shook A City
Aug. 16th, 2010 01:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ninanevermore.
.
.
The state of Texas will execute a man named Peter Cantu tomorrow and I, a Democrat-leaning citizen who is not the biggest fan of the death penalty, will not shed a tear. Almost no one who lived in Houston in the summer of 1993 will. The murders of two teenage girls, Jennifer Ertman (14) and Elizabeth Peña (16), captivated the city in a way that I can’t recall any other murders – even those that were equally horrific – doing. The images still play out in our collective memories like a macabre slide show.
Many of us can’t forget the two photos of the girls’ faces that were all over the media for those first three days. We can’t forget the shots of helicopter searching for the bodies of the 4th day after an anonymous tip about where they might be found. We can’t forget the image of Jenny’s father, Randy Ertman, a giant of a man with shaggy blond hair and a full beard who looked like he could use two Hardly Davidson motorcycles for roller skates, being restrained by police as he screamed as he struggled to make it to the crime scene to see his daughter. I recall that there were three policemen hanging off of him, one on each arm and one on his back. I’ve read that he was screaming, “Does she have blond hair? Does she have blond hair?” But the bodies of the two girls, who had been gang raped and brutalized for hours before they were strangled and had their necks stomped on to make sure they were dead, had lain out in the Houston heat and humidity for 4 days. Someone finally got it through Mr. Ertman’s head that the bodies would have to be identified through dental records, and he relented and allowed himself to be led away.
We remember our collective shock when the ages of the assailants were revealed, and that the youngest of them was only 14 years old – the same age as Jenny Ertman. Two others were only 17 years old. The remaining assailants were a pair of 18 year olds and a 21 year old. I were remember watching the news the day after their arrests, when the killers old enough to have their faces shown on TV were brought to court for their arrangements. They looked like they had been roughed up in jail, and I could clearly see that someone had taken a marker and written “Baby F#cker” across the back of the orange jail-issued jumpsuit that Cantu was wearing.
“My God, they put them in general lock up,” I said to Jeff, who was then my boyfriend.
“Good,” he replied.
I’ve read that the boys bragged in jail about what they were in for. Apparently, they didn’t realize that amongst an inmate population, being known for raping and murdering young girls did not put them at the top of the food chain and make them look bad assed; it put them at the bottom and made them eligible for a small taste of what they’d served up days before. They learned where they fell in the pecking order that night, and the lesson looked like it hurt. I remember the Houston Chronicle drying noting that it appeared they’d had “a rough first night in jail.”
We remember the trials, too, which played out like a soap opera over the next few years. I remember Peter Cantu’s father speaking with a reporter from one of the Spanish language networks outside of the courtroom. He was speaking in Spanish, and he told the reporter that the family’s of the girls were in part responsible for what happened to them, because they should not have been out so late at night by themselves. He said this as one of Elizabeth Peña’s relatives was walking by. Her kinsman also spoke Spanish, and punched Mr. Cantu in the face right there in front of the TV cameras. This incident is not reported in many (or any) or the web article I can find on the case, but it is one that stands out in my memory, because rarely do you see someone get such a justified comeuppance when they say something so asinine. There is no such thing as “only words.” Words are powerful, and there are things you can say that you deserve to be hit for. I’m sorry, but it’s true.
I think about this incident every time I read or hear someone blaming a victim for being where she was or wearing what she wearing. This last week, a 14-year-old girl named Shatavia Anderson was shot dead and robbed outside of her family’s apartment. One of the comments on the Houston Chronicle website asked what Shatavia was doing outside at that hour in that part of town (answer: trying to make it home to her parents before her curfew – just like Jenny and Elizabeth were trying to do 17 years ago when they were killed). Reading that comment, I wished someone would punch him in the face until he admitted that no one ever asks to be or deserves to be robbed or murdered or raped or all three.
Here Houston, we still remember Randy Ertman’s victim’s impact statement to Peter Cantu back in 1996. Before that, they had not been allowed in Texas courts. The Houston Chronicle reported: Hands in his pockets, the 19-year-old killer of Jennifer Ertman, 14, and Elizabeth Pena, 16, then sat down, and state District Judge Bill Harmon ordered, "Please rise, Mr. Cantu." Looking into the audience, Harmon took the unprecedented step of allowing Ertman's father, Randy Ertman, to address the defendant. But as Ertman began to speak, Cantu seemed to scoff and look away. "You look at me!" Ertman yelled. "I've got cats that kill animals. When they kill something, they eat it. You don't even eat it. You're not even an animal. You're the worst thing I've ever seen." Again Cantu looked away, scratching nervously at his face. "Look at me!" Ertman roared. "Look at me good!"
Seventeen years ago, the city of Houston was transfixed by these awful events. Those of us who lived here are still haunted what happened that summer. I am not one to believe that the death of Peter Cantu tomorrow night will ease the horror in any way.
Like I said, I’m not a big fan of the death penalty. I’m not against it for the reason that liberals are: on the principle that killing is wrong no matter who does it. I’m a moderate and a pragmatist, so I’m against if for pragmatic reasons: because it is irreversible and I believe that innocent people can and do get executed for things they have not done. I agree with the principle of convicting people when a jury decides beyond a reasonable doubt that they are guilty, but if you are going to kill a person there should be no doubt, reasonable or otherwise. It also costs a lot more money than life in prison does, so my inner cheapskate finds it distasteful for that reason.
Still, when Peter Cantu breathes his last, I won’t feel bad that he’s gone. He bragged about the murders. He was the one who gave the orders both to grab the girls so “they could have some fun,” and to murder them so they wouldn’t talk. This man is guilty as sin, and there is no doubt. The forensics, his confession, and the testimony of his co-defendants all say that he not only committed this crime, he orchestrated it. In light of that, I hope the cook spits in his last meal, and that it gives him indigestion. I hope he stubs his toe on the way to the death chamber, and hits the “funny” bones in his elbows on the doorframe as he steps inside. When they put the needle in, I hope it stings. When the poison enters his veins, I hope it burns like fire.
These are ugly things to hope, but I do. His death won’t bring back Jenny Ertman and Elizabeth Peña, but an entire city will breathe easier knowing that he’s no longer breathing at all.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * # * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Saber Dance by Khachaturian
.
.
The state of Texas will execute a man named Peter Cantu tomorrow and I, a Democrat-leaning citizen who is not the biggest fan of the death penalty, will not shed a tear. Almost no one who lived in Houston in the summer of 1993 will. The murders of two teenage girls, Jennifer Ertman (14) and Elizabeth Peña (16), captivated the city in a way that I can’t recall any other murders – even those that were equally horrific – doing. The images still play out in our collective memories like a macabre slide show.
Many of us can’t forget the two photos of the girls’ faces that were all over the media for those first three days. We can’t forget the shots of helicopter searching for the bodies of the 4th day after an anonymous tip about where they might be found. We can’t forget the image of Jenny’s father, Randy Ertman, a giant of a man with shaggy blond hair and a full beard who looked like he could use two Hardly Davidson motorcycles for roller skates, being restrained by police as he screamed as he struggled to make it to the crime scene to see his daughter. I recall that there were three policemen hanging off of him, one on each arm and one on his back. I’ve read that he was screaming, “Does she have blond hair? Does she have blond hair?” But the bodies of the two girls, who had been gang raped and brutalized for hours before they were strangled and had their necks stomped on to make sure they were dead, had lain out in the Houston heat and humidity for 4 days. Someone finally got it through Mr. Ertman’s head that the bodies would have to be identified through dental records, and he relented and allowed himself to be led away.
We remember our collective shock when the ages of the assailants were revealed, and that the youngest of them was only 14 years old – the same age as Jenny Ertman. Two others were only 17 years old. The remaining assailants were a pair of 18 year olds and a 21 year old. I were remember watching the news the day after their arrests, when the killers old enough to have their faces shown on TV were brought to court for their arrangements. They looked like they had been roughed up in jail, and I could clearly see that someone had taken a marker and written “Baby F#cker” across the back of the orange jail-issued jumpsuit that Cantu was wearing.
“My God, they put them in general lock up,” I said to Jeff, who was then my boyfriend.
“Good,” he replied.
I’ve read that the boys bragged in jail about what they were in for. Apparently, they didn’t realize that amongst an inmate population, being known for raping and murdering young girls did not put them at the top of the food chain and make them look bad assed; it put them at the bottom and made them eligible for a small taste of what they’d served up days before. They learned where they fell in the pecking order that night, and the lesson looked like it hurt. I remember the Houston Chronicle drying noting that it appeared they’d had “a rough first night in jail.”
We remember the trials, too, which played out like a soap opera over the next few years. I remember Peter Cantu’s father speaking with a reporter from one of the Spanish language networks outside of the courtroom. He was speaking in Spanish, and he told the reporter that the family’s of the girls were in part responsible for what happened to them, because they should not have been out so late at night by themselves. He said this as one of Elizabeth Peña’s relatives was walking by. Her kinsman also spoke Spanish, and punched Mr. Cantu in the face right there in front of the TV cameras. This incident is not reported in many (or any) or the web article I can find on the case, but it is one that stands out in my memory, because rarely do you see someone get such a justified comeuppance when they say something so asinine. There is no such thing as “only words.” Words are powerful, and there are things you can say that you deserve to be hit for. I’m sorry, but it’s true.
I think about this incident every time I read or hear someone blaming a victim for being where she was or wearing what she wearing. This last week, a 14-year-old girl named Shatavia Anderson was shot dead and robbed outside of her family’s apartment. One of the comments on the Houston Chronicle website asked what Shatavia was doing outside at that hour in that part of town (answer: trying to make it home to her parents before her curfew – just like Jenny and Elizabeth were trying to do 17 years ago when they were killed). Reading that comment, I wished someone would punch him in the face until he admitted that no one ever asks to be or deserves to be robbed or murdered or raped or all three.
Here Houston, we still remember Randy Ertman’s victim’s impact statement to Peter Cantu back in 1996. Before that, they had not been allowed in Texas courts. The Houston Chronicle reported: Hands in his pockets, the 19-year-old killer of Jennifer Ertman, 14, and Elizabeth Pena, 16, then sat down, and state District Judge Bill Harmon ordered, "Please rise, Mr. Cantu." Looking into the audience, Harmon took the unprecedented step of allowing Ertman's father, Randy Ertman, to address the defendant. But as Ertman began to speak, Cantu seemed to scoff and look away. "You look at me!" Ertman yelled. "I've got cats that kill animals. When they kill something, they eat it. You don't even eat it. You're not even an animal. You're the worst thing I've ever seen." Again Cantu looked away, scratching nervously at his face. "Look at me!" Ertman roared. "Look at me good!"
Seventeen years ago, the city of Houston was transfixed by these awful events. Those of us who lived here are still haunted what happened that summer. I am not one to believe that the death of Peter Cantu tomorrow night will ease the horror in any way.
Like I said, I’m not a big fan of the death penalty. I’m not against it for the reason that liberals are: on the principle that killing is wrong no matter who does it. I’m a moderate and a pragmatist, so I’m against if for pragmatic reasons: because it is irreversible and I believe that innocent people can and do get executed for things they have not done. I agree with the principle of convicting people when a jury decides beyond a reasonable doubt that they are guilty, but if you are going to kill a person there should be no doubt, reasonable or otherwise. It also costs a lot more money than life in prison does, so my inner cheapskate finds it distasteful for that reason.
Still, when Peter Cantu breathes his last, I won’t feel bad that he’s gone. He bragged about the murders. He was the one who gave the orders both to grab the girls so “they could have some fun,” and to murder them so they wouldn’t talk. This man is guilty as sin, and there is no doubt. The forensics, his confession, and the testimony of his co-defendants all say that he not only committed this crime, he orchestrated it. In light of that, I hope the cook spits in his last meal, and that it gives him indigestion. I hope he stubs his toe on the way to the death chamber, and hits the “funny” bones in his elbows on the doorframe as he steps inside. When they put the needle in, I hope it stings. When the poison enters his veins, I hope it burns like fire.
These are ugly things to hope, but I do. His death won’t bring back Jenny Ertman and Elizabeth Peña, but an entire city will breathe easier knowing that he’s no longer breathing at all.
Saber Dance by Khachaturian
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-08-16 06:42 pm (UTC)So, can I punch my mother for reacting to our recent break-in by saying, "You just shouldn't have moved in to that neighborhood," when it was the only place we could afford after six months of homelessness and separation from our son? I wouldn't ACTUALLY punch her, but it would make me smile to think about it from time to time.
no subject
Date: 2010-08-16 07:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-16 08:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-16 08:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-16 08:29 pm (UTC)Some people really are evil. There is no other word to describe it.
no subject
Date: 2010-08-16 08:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-16 09:14 pm (UTC)Evil comes in both aggressive and passive forms. I think she falls in the same category of the so-called "Manson girls:" she is passively evil and was under the influence of a very controlling, charismatic figure for whom she became what he wanted her to be.
She is a study in the principal of the Banality of Evil. Had she never met him, she would have led a very unremarkable and relatively harmless life. I think that without him in her life she is not likely to re-offend.
I understand the outrage that she is out, though. It's the principle of the thing.
no subject
Date: 2010-08-16 08:39 pm (UTC)As I always understood it, The way to the top of the food chain in the inmate population is to beat a guy to death -- bare-knuckled -- because he insulted your momma.
no subject
Date: 2010-08-16 09:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-16 09:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-17 05:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-17 05:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-18 01:25 pm (UTC)I am totally sick of the "blame the victim" mentality that a lot of people have. My mom has that mentality in a lot of rapes. I remember the Mike Tyson Rape case. It happened shortly after I had been date raped. My mom totally blamed the victim. "What did she expect was going to happen going to his place at that time of night?" Well the same could've been said for me. It was late at night/early morning. We don't always make great decisions, but that shouldn't mean that we're punished for them. And my mom had no idea that it happened to me. And I never intended to tell her. Not after that statement...
Though I also dislike people who cry "rape" when it clearly wasn't so. It gives real rape victims a bad name.
*gets off soap box*
no subject
Date: 2010-08-18 01:44 pm (UTC)I remember a lot of people saying that the Mike Tyson victim should have known better than to go to a man's room and to sit on his bed. I was in college when it happened, and I remember thinking that the victim (who was also in college) probably lived in a dorm. When you live in a dorm and visit other people who live in dorms, there is very little furniture. The bed in a dorm room serves as a couch, easy chair, and dining room table for all who visit. A hotel room is not so different from a dorm room; it would have been a very natural thing for her to sit on the edge of the bed and not think the least of it.
I thought all the people who criticized her for her naivety were a bunch of selfrighteous @$$holes. I still think that.
No one asks to be raped.
*hugs*
no subject
Date: 2010-08-18 01:55 pm (UTC)*HUGS BACK*
no subject
Date: 2010-08-18 02:32 pm (UTC)It's also completely asinine. I stand by my declaration that anyone who makes such a statement deserves to be punched. The only way they should be avoid to avoid the punch would be to agree to wear a t-shirt for a month - no, make that a year - with the words, "I am a self-righteous jerk who speaks without thinking." Any day during that year that they don't wear the shirt means that they get punched, and STILL have to wear the shirt for an additional year. :P
no subject
Date: 2010-08-18 02:45 pm (UTC)