Gee: Some people don’t get the benefit of the doubt
Jun 4, 2019, 1:09 PM | Updated: 1:11 pm

"When They See Us" is a Netflix miniseries about a true story from 1989. (Netflix)
(Netflix)
Giving someone the benefit of the doubt: To retain a favorable, or at least a neutral, opinion of someone or something until the full information about the subject is available.
is a new Netflix series that came out last Friday. It鈥檚 inspired by the high-profile from 1989. The case involved a female jogger who was attacked and raped in New York’s Central Park. Five teenagers were convicted of this crime. If you haven鈥檛 had the chance to watch it, I highly suggest you do.
It took me three days to get through this four-episode miniseries. It wasn鈥檛 because I didn鈥檛 have the time. Mainly, it was because it was so upsetting. But I watched it. Now it鈥檚 5:37 a.m. and I can鈥檛 sleep at all. Here鈥檚 why.
Education for ignorance, confrontation for hate
A good meal, politics, and lessons from MLK
Thirty years ago I was walking through the academic building at Howe Military School. It was the time between classes. Two kids were wrestling in the hallway and were banging up against the lockers. Once I saw this, I ran up the stairs to get to my next class. But during that class, I was called down to the office.
On my way to the office, I鈥檓 thinking to myself, 鈥淕reat, now they are going to want me to tell them who was wrestling in the hallway.鈥
When I arrived at the Commandant鈥檚 office, he immediately said, 鈥淪cott, you鈥檙e written up for Conduct Unbecoming.鈥 For those who didn’t attend military school, that鈥檚 bad. Conduct Unbecoming is worth 25 demerits, which are marks that can go against you if you do something wrong like not shining your shoes, missing a name tag, or in this case wrestling.
I was surprised, so I asked what I did. The Commandant told me that I was attacking a kid in the hallway.
Wait, what?!
鈥淣o sir, I didn鈥檛 do that,” I said. “I ran past when others were wrestling.鈥
鈥淪cott,” he said. “One of the Tactical Officers (an adult who is in charge of one of barracks that we lived in) saw you.鈥
I told him it was a mistake and that I was sure it was just a misunderstanding. But he just said 鈥淪cott, we are done here.”
I approached the Tactical Officer later that same day. I told him that he had the wrong person. But he said 鈥淣o Scott, I saw you. Don鈥檛 pretend like I didn鈥檛 see you.鈥
I couldn鈥檛 believe this. Why is he saying this? Why is he doing this?
By the way, this incident was a big deal because it put me at over 30 demerits (I had 10 already). When you get 30 or more demerits, that鈥檚 鈥淔-Conduct,鈥 which means no privileges for the weekend and you have to match with rifles for hours. I had never been on F-Conduct, so I was devastated.
That evening at the barracks, I approached the kid who I was accused of attacking; the kid who was wrestling in the hallway. I told him what happened and what I was accused of. He said he would go tell the Commandant the truth, that he was the wrestling with someone else.
The next day, he did just that. He told the Commandant what happened and how I didn鈥檛 try to attack him. The Commandant asked him if he was being threatened. He told the kid that a Tactical Officer saw the whole thing, so he didn’t want to hear anymore.
So I lost my privileges, even though I didn鈥檛 do anything. Even after the kid confessed, they didn鈥檛 believe him.
As I often did when things bothered me, I called my dad to talk with him about it. After I told him the story, the first thing he sad was, 鈥淲hy did you run?鈥
Well, I ran up the stairs because I didn鈥檛 want anyone to think I was involved.
鈥淲ell son, there鈥檚 nothing I can do,” my dad said. “Unfortunately, you鈥檙e going to have to accept the punishment.”
I鈥檓 crying over the phone and explaining to him that this adult is lying on me; that the kid even told the truth. I told him about how they think I threatened the kid so he would lie for me.
But again, my dad told me 鈥淪on, I understand that, but you鈥檙e just going to have to learn from this.鈥
Now I’m mad. I’m so mad at my dad and everyone in the world.
鈥淲hy is that I don鈥檛 get the benefit of the doubt?鈥 I said.
There was a pause for about five seconds.
鈥淐hamp,” my dad said. “Because you have to learn that you have to leave no doubt.鈥
For the next two days, I cried myself to sleep. I couldn鈥檛 believe this was happening to me.
But then, on Friday after school, the kid approached me and told me everything was fixed. He called his mom — a wealthy family by the way — and told her what happened. She called the school and fixed everything. And just like that, the demerits were gone and I was good to go. If you鈥檙e asking if the kid got demerits for wrestling in the hall — um, no. It was a wealthy family, remember?
The five teenagers from the Central Park jogger case were never given the benefit of the doubt in 1989. One of those teenagers, Korey Wise, wasn’t even on the suspect list. He went down to the police station to support his friend who was being asked about the crime. It was Korey’s coerced confession, however, that was used to put them all in jail. Korey is also the only one who went to adult prison — he was 16 at the time — and he was incarcerated the longest.
This case happened 30 years ago, and today it is so hard to watch. Tonight, I can鈥檛 sleep. They didn鈥檛 get the benefit of the doubt then. I don鈥檛 know that much has changed today. I do know and understand what my dad was trying to say then. Some of us can鈥檛 count on the benefit of the doubt, we have to leave no doubt.