As is often the case when allegations of abuse arise, more victims have surfaced since Brian Sterner's toss from his wheelchair courtesy of a Hillsborough County deputy made national (and more importantly Disaboom
) news. There are more videos, more complaints, and more excuses. The attorney for a second person with a disability spoke to the media today regarding his client's ejection from his wheelchair at the very same jail nearly two years ago. Watch this video of Benjamin Rayburn, a convicted criminal, who is flipped out of his wheelchair before it is removed from his cell. Rayburn then crawls on the floor for approximately an hour.
Of course I wish that I would never hear of this type of brutality because in my idealistic world it would never happen.
Of course I'd like to believe that it truly has only happened these two times in this single jail, which happens to be well-equipped with video cameras to capture the injustice. For most, these videos serve as proof-an elevation above the usual war of words that would follow such an allegation. For me, watching these events unfold includes a different brand of reality. I know exactly what it feels like when your wheelchair flips out from under you and you hit a cold, hard floor. I know the jolt of your heart dropping as you realize you've lost your balance and there's no where to go but down. I also know what it feels like to be without your chair and feel helpless, small, and vulnerable. My shared experiences didn't come with the additional pain of abuse, but they are enough to add an additional component to my empathy that even the enraged general able-bodied public doesn't really understand. I've obviously never happy when stories like this hit the news-only because I wish they'd never happen at all. But in their media attraction, I do see an opportunity for all of us to learn and work together to improve our society.
(Picture caption: Photo from video clip of Brian Sterner laying on the floor as deputy tips his wheelchair forward.)
In that context, I'm actually more thankful for this second less-publicized story of jailhouse abuse of a person with a disability. Rayburn's story is filled with more grays and his own shadowed past leaves us with several questions:
- Who deserves justice?
- How much of a person's dignity should be confiscated as a consequence of their behavior?
- Should prisoners in wheelchairs (murderers, rapists, robbers, molesters, etc.) get "special treatment"?
Part of the atrocity involved in Brian Sterner's abuse revolved around the intention of the guard who flipped him. The deputy had stated her doubts that Mr. Sterner truly needed a wheelchair so reasoned that the best way to find out would be to flip him face first on the floor. For those of us with even a smidgen of experience being in the mere presence of other people with disabilities, we could tell he was legit within the first couple seconds of the video. In contrast, Benjamin Rayburn did some tossing of his own before he was flipped from his chair. Rayburn was caught in the act of sneaking contraband into the jailhouse. Amidst the scuffle, he hurled a glass crack pipe at an officer, who's head served as the backboard before it smashed on the floor. After this event, Rayburn was intentionally flipped out of his wheelchair and denied access to it for an hour in what appeared to be a punitive response of the officers.
So Benjamin's not a nice guy. He's been arrested 17 times, he's a drug user, and he tried to assault an officer. I firmly believe he should be punished. In our prison system that involves a relatively large sacrifice of dignity for all inmates. From strip searches to the lack of privacy, all those serving time for the crimes they committed probably feel a certain loss of respect. Perhaps out of ignorance, maliciousness, or maybe even job burnout, the guards who flipped Benjamin Rayburn OR the guards who stood by and watched did NOT treat him as an equal to the other prisoners in their custody. If it was necessary to remove him from his wheelchair, they were extremely negligent in their approach. Unless it is a Hillsborough policy to inject combative able-bodied prisoners with a drug that would paralyze their legs, it was entirely inappropriate that Rayburn's wheelchair was removed from the cell as a punishment. Forcing Rayburn to crawl on the floor is a sort of emotional violence that I'm not comfortable with jailhouse guards dispensing. Prisoners with disabilities don't deserve special treatment, but they deserve the same dignity that is provided to our other fellow Americans serving time in jails and prisons across the country.
I haven't seen this second abuse of a person with a disability covered yet on our news here in Florida. Maybe it's because Mr. Rayburn doesn't exactly have the stellar past that preceded Brian Sterner's arrest and subsequent dumping. Media coverage of events like these is another way I take the pulse of our society's view of people with disability. Even the small details interest me. Take a look at this Special Report page from the St. Petersburg Times. The headlines describe three victims of the Hillsborough County Jail. There's Charlana Irving, Marcella Pourmoghani, and....."a quadriplegic". This news outlet obviously knows Brian Sterner's name because it's included in the slideshow directly adjacent to these attention-grabbers! Here's another example with a different twist.

MSNBC Investigates: Blood Brothers
Ted Ernst master-minded a murder plot of an innocent grandfather. His accomplice is named in the written caption of this video but Ted is identified only as his "wheelchair bound brother." Besides the fact it's poor journalism, this type of coverage just promotes the paternalistic and pity-ridden side of well-meaning members of our society. William Peace does an excellent job expanding on these thoughts in his piece for Counterpunch.
The real lesson is that just like able-bodied people, we come in all different shapes, kinds, and colors. A few of us are heroes and a few are murderers. We all deserve justice, dignity, and equality-in the best and the worst of times.