Rest in Power

by Sybrina Fulton

  “That is…,” Gilbreath said.

  “And isn’t it true that a lot of statements that he made do not make sense in terms of the injuries that he described? Did he not describe to the police that Mr. Martin had him on the ground and kept bashing his head on the concrete over and over and just physically beating him with his hands?”

  “He has said that, yes.”

  “And isn’t it true that there is evidence that indicates that’s not true?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did he not state or claim that the victim in this case, Mr. Martin, put both hands one over his mouth and one over his nose so that he couldn’t breathe?”

  “Yes.”

  “And all of a sudden that’s when he was able to get free and grab the gun? Or, I’m sorry, Martin was grabbing for the gun, did he not claim that, too, at some point?”

  “Yes.”

  “But, and I’m not going to get into every little contradiction, but wouldn’t you agree that a lot of his statements can be contradicted by the evidence, either witnesses, or just based on what he says himself?”

  “Yes.”

  De la Rionda had no further questions. After a few more questions from O’Mara, Gilbreath was dismissed and O’Mara stood to address Judge Lester.

  “My client wants to make a statement to the court, Your Honor,” he said.

  The defendant was going to take the stand? Another surprise. I braced myself. The killer approached the bench to be sworn in. Because he was in shackles, he was only able to raise his right hand halfway as he took the oath. He then sat down at the witness stand. He seemed to be looking somewhere into the distance, but he addressed Sybrina and me, although not by name.

  “I wanted to say I am sorry for the loss of your son,” he said. “I did not know how old he was. I thought he was a little bit younger than I am, and I did not know if he was armed or not.”

  He’s admitting his guilt!

  I was speechless. So was Sybrina. She just shook her head and refused to look at the defendant.

  O’Mara had no more questions, but de la Rionda was eager to cross-examine.

  “Okay, and tell me, after you committed this crime and you spoke to the police, did you ever make that statement to the police, sir? That you were sorry for what you’d done or their loss?” de la Rionda asked.

  “No, sir,” the killer responded.

  “You never stated that, did you?”

  “I don’t remember what I said. I believe I did say that.”

  “You told that to the police?”

  “In one of the statements, I said that I felt sorry for the family…”

  “And you’re sure you said that?”

  “I’m fairly certain.”

  “And so which officer did you tell that to? You made five statements, I believe, total.”

  “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, all the names run together…”

  “And let me make sure the record’s clear—you stated exactly what to those detectives?”

  “I don’t remember exactly what verbatim.”

  “But you’re saying you expressed concern for the loss of Mr. Martin, or that you had shot Mr. Martin, that you actually felt sorry for him.”

  “I felt sorry that they lost their child, yes…”

  “Why did you wait fifty-something days to tell them—that is, the parents?”

  “I don’t understand the question, sir.”

  “Why did you wait so long to tell Mr. Martin and the victim’s mother, the father and mother, why did you wait so long to tell them?”

  “I was told not to communicate with them.”

  “Okay, so even through your attorney, you didn’t ask to do it right away? Your former attorneys or anything?”

  “I did ask them to express that to them, and they said that they were going to…”

  After some back-and-forth regarding the killer’s statements to the police, de la Rionda asked, “Would you agree you changed your story as it went along?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  After a few more questions, the defendant was allowed to step down. It was now time for Judge Lester to either set bail or to keep him in jail for the duration of the trial without bail.

  O’Mara of course asked the judge to release his client on bail; de la Rionda asked the judge to consider the charges the killer was facing: “…life in prison…a life felony, and that obviously makes it different…

  “You also have the fact that it is an unarmed seventeen-year-old boy…” de la Rionda continued, “an innocent young man whose life is no longer among us.

  “He has violence in the past and obviously he committed this crime, or he’s charged with committing this crime.

  “Our position is that he still will be a danger to the community, and, based on the crime, he should be kept on no bond or the bond should be one million dollars, quite frankly….What it boils down to, he shot somebody.”

  Not only shot; he killed someone.

  Judge Lester leaned forward and stroked his goatee as he considered the facts. He said he considered the defendant’s prior resisting-arrest charge “a run-of-the-mill-type run-in with the alcohol and beverage agents.” He felt the injunction against his ex-girlfriend was “mild” compared to others he had seen.

  He set bond at $150,000, under certain conditions: electronic GPS monitoring, abstinence from alcohol and possession of firearms, as well as a curfew.

  JUNE 1

  The judge’s ruling on April 20 seemed final. But six weeks later, on June 1, Judge Lester would revoke the original bond and order the killer to turn himself in to the court after the prosecution discovered that Shellie had lied about their family’s finances. It turned out that Shellie and her husband had access to $135,000 raised through a PayPal account on their website for his defense. Yet Shellie had told the court, under oath, that she and her husband were indigent and without any available funds.

  This lie was discovered through phone conversations between George and Shellie Zimmerman while he was still in custody in the Seminole County Jail.

  “This court was led to believe they didn’t have a single penny,” de la Rionda said in the motion to revoke the bond. “It was misleading, and I don’t know what other words to use other than it was a blatant lie.”

  According to the prosecutors, the couple knew their conversations were being recorded and devised a code designed to cover up the exact amounts they had raised. Money raised on the website was then deposited into the killer’s credit union account, then transferred to his wife’s account and various other accounts. Transfers never exceeded $10,000, which would have required the bank to report the transactions to the IRS.

  “Judge Lester’s finding that George Zimmerman was dishonest is very important,” Crump told reporters when the news broke. “His credibility is the most important thing in this case.”

  The killer had also failed to hand over his passport, instead surrendering a passport he had reported as stolen eight years earlier. The old passport that was given over to the court was set to expire shortly after the initial bond hearing. But the newer passport, which he had held on to, was valid until 2014.

  Judge Lester lashed out at the defendant and his attorney over the lies.

  “Does your client get to sit there like a potted palm and let you lead me down the primrose path?” he asked. “That’s the issue. He can’t sit back and obtain the benefit of a lower bond based upon those material falsehoods.”

  Judge Lester was tough, and we felt lucky to have him presiding over the case. But that luck wouldn’t last for long.

  CODA

  On June 12, Shellie was arrested on one count of perjury. As for her husband, on July 5, he was given a new bond—$1 million—and ordered to stay away from airports, among other conditions.

  After posting bail, the killer was once again released from jail.

  And we braced ourselves to see what would come next.

  We didn’t have to wait for long. On July 13, the kill
er’s attorneys filed a motion on his behalf with the Florida Court of Appeals to disqualify Judge Lester, writing that the court, meaning the judge, “makes gratuitous, disparaging remarks about Mr. Zimmerman’s character; advocates for Mr. Zimmerman to be prosecuted for additional crimes; offers a personal opinion about the evidence for said prosecution; and continues to hold over Mr. Zimmerman’s head the threat of future contempt proceedings.”

  Six weeks later, on August 29, an appeals court granted the motion for a new judge, agreeing with O’Mara that Judge Lester had “created reasonable fear in Mr. Zimmerman that the court is biased against him.”

  Now we had yet another judge presiding over the case, this one being the third: Judge Debra Nelson.

  CHAPTER 11

  Sybrina

  March 12, 2013–July 27, 2013

  Almost a year had passed since the April 11 arrest of the man who killed our son. We continued to get the word out, doing media interviews, traveling to rallies and events, and telling the world how we felt, in the hope that as many people as possible would be aware that the case of the man who killed our son was finally going to trial. Supporters continued to come to our side. Our constant ally Michael Skolnik and the music producer Russell Simmons brought our social injustice to social media and broadening the platform. Then the Oscar-winning actor Jamie Foxx came to our side in support. It began at the forty-fourth annual NAACP Image Awards on February 1, 2013, where, from the stage, the legendary entertainer and civil rights activist Harry Belafonte called upon celebrities and leaders of the entertainment industry to channel the power of their fame into standing up for the rights of others, as he had stood by Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., during the civil rights movement. When Jamie Foxx stood up to accept an award that evening, he gave an impromptu speech, accepting the mantle from Harry Belafonte and the responsibility of his power to help bring about change. From that moment on, Jamie joined us in our fight for justice for Trayvon. Two weeks after the NAACP awards, he joined us on February 26, 2013, for our peace walk on the first anniversary of Trayvon’s death. He was instrumental in galvanizing the support of other celebrities and bringing our fight for justice to a far wider audience. During award ceremonies he traded in his tuxedos for shirts that he had specially made with Trayvon’s image to show solidarity with our family and our cause. “I’m absolutely committed to all you out there who have young kids,” he told the media at one point. “I hope you never have to go through anything like this.” We also had invaluable support from the national radio star Tom Joyner, who played an enormous role in getting the word out about our cause on his show. We also wanted people to know how we felt as parents about how our son was killed and the unfairness of the justice system.

  It was important for us to stay focused.

  —

  Parks and Crump told us that we all—Tracy, Jahvaris, and I—would have to provide depositions about a month before the trial, which was now scheduled to begin with jury selection on Monday, June 10, 2013. I knew a little about depositions. I had given a deposition before, when I was pregnant with Trayvon. It was over a confrontation at my workplace: I was a dispatcher at the time, and I saw two employees go into an office for a meeting over a dispute they had a few days before, and they came out of the office with what we thought was a resolution. As they were leaving the meeting, one employee shot the other in the back.

  The employees’ union brought people in to try to iron things out. Several months later, along with other witnesses, I was called in for a deposition on that case. This was many years before our tragedy.

  So for our son’s case, I knew I’d be drilled with questions and that the defense would be looking for contradictions, uncertainties, or weakness to take advantage of during the trial. I knew I would tell the truth in the deposition, just as I always did, but I was still nervous. Although it wasn’t the State of Florida versus Trayvon Martin, it certainly felt like he was on trial.

  My deposition was scheduled for March 15, 2013.

  I dressed in one of the business suits I’d bought at the mall for our media appearances and drove alone to a state office building by the Miami International Airport. I walked into a conference room scattered with chairs and people in business suits, divided by a long table. Lawyers against lawyers. Us against them.

  They asked me to sit at the head of the table, across from a court reporter, who would type my every word, and a video camera, which would record my every word and movement. More than a year after losing my son, our road to what we hoped would be justice had arrived in this cold, gray conference room, with bright camera lights bearing down on me and the lens fixed on my face, an interrogation. As if I’d committed a crime.

  Of course, I expected this. I expected to be grilled with questions about things most people don’t remember. What did you do seven months ago and what did you have on? Seven months ago I was doing well if I could get up, comb my hair, and eat something.

  At 9:29 A.M. I was sworn in, and Zimmerman’s attorney O’Mara asked me to state basic facts about myself for the record: my name, birthdate, children’s names and birthdays, where I lived, with whom and when.

  “We are under a court order that certain information that we gather through depositions will be held confidential,” O’Mara explained. “That includes such matters as your address and other demographic information. So I’m gonna ask you those questions but with the understanding that we understand that should reports be identified, such as a transcript, that it would similarly be redacted or maintained confidential. You know what I mean by that?”

  “I understand what you’re saying, yes,” I said, even though I knew that information had consistently been leaked out for over a year about the case, including our home addresses. But now we were supposed to believe that our addresses would be kept confidential if we revealed them? It was a joke. I also knew that State Attorney Angela Corey and her prosecutors had to do everything by the book, while the other side, the killer’s attorneys, could be more aggressive.

  “Can I make just one statement?” Crump interjected. “Like Mr. Martin, she [Sybrina] is reluctantly giving her personal address because she does feel that her home and her mother’s home have already been posted on Internet sites along with very racist comments and blogs and threats to her family, so she is majorly concerned about the safety of her family.” It was true: we had been under siege with direct threats, threatening posts online, and more.

  “Sure, and we certainly understand and agree with it,” said O’Mara. “The Zimmerman family has had similar attacks on them with their privacy as well, so we know, not only from the desire to keep your information private, but we maintain the same requirement for the Zimmerman family, so I certainly understand the concern.”

  Reluctantly, I gave them my home address and told them I had lived there nearly two years, with my son Jahvaris and my brother.

  Then Mark O’Mara asked me a series of questions about my life.

  “Tell me about your employment. What type of work do you do?” he asked.

  “I’m a program coordinator for the Miami-Dade Housing Agency,” I explained. “I help low-income residents with housing-related issues. I work with a program called Hope VI. I manage the grant, and with that grant money I was able to provide services, program services, to the residents of Miami-Dade County.”

  I told him I had been with the housing agency for ten years, and worked as a code-enforcement officer for Miami-Dade County Solid Waste Management for about twelve years before that.

  “So, for most of your adult career, you’ve been working in the governmental system?” O’Mara asked. “Miami-Dade, one way, one place or the other?”

  “Yes,” I confirmed.

  “Okay. Presently, what is your approximate salary, at the housing agency?” he continued.

  I told them the amount of salary I received, while thinking, What did this have to do with the killing of my son?

  “And I understand that you’re presently on sort of
a hiatus or break from that actual employment,” he said.

  “Leave, yes,” I said.

  “A leave,” he repeated. “And that began just after Trayvon’s passing?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Are you still being compensated…?” he asked.

  “No I am not,” I said.

  “Okay,” he said. “And I understand just from my general knowledge from the case that you’re spending a lot of time working with foundations that have been set up since [Trayvon’s] passing.”

  “Yes,” I said, and when he asked me to tell him about them, I added, “Particularly the Trayvon Martin Foundation.”

  I explained that the Trayvon Martin Foundation was set up six months after Trayvon’s death, in August 2012. “The Trayvon Martin Foundation will provide advocacy for families of victims of gun violence,” I told Mark O’Mara. “We are also going to offer a mentoring program to help young adults with conflict resolution and their rights as a teenager. We’re also going to have a…scholarship program component, which will help young adults pursue a higher education…”

  “Who is in charge of that?” O’Mara asked.

  “Right now the Miami Foundation handles our finances,” I said, “and we have put together a board. Most of the work we have been doing is on a volunteer basis, but we’ve been pretty successful trying to get people to help us out…”

  “Who’s on the board now?” he asked.

  “Tracy and I…” I answered. “We do have a person acting as [an] executive director to try to just get us on the right track. So she’s been helping a lot.

  “However, right now we’re just getting established,” I added. He asked the source of the money and I told him, “Only from donations.”

  The word “donations” caused the attorney to drill in deeper.