On July 13, I, along with millions of Americans, watched the George Zimmerman trial end with a not-guilty verdict.
A jury of six women entered the Sanford courtroom and handed over the verdict, their eyes averted from the defendant. After hours of deliberation, they decided Zimmerman had justifiably used deadly force against Trayvon Martin — enough to prevent imminent death or great bodily harm, as the Florida self-defense law stipulates.
I flipped through the local and national news shortly after 10 that night, hoping that changing the channel would somehow change the reality. I asked myself how Sybrina Fulton and Tracy Martin would cope with the release of their son’s killer.
The gavel went down, and the case closed. The defendant and jury were dismissed, and the reporters went home. What was left from one of the most publicized court cases in history was Martin’s memory, and he would become the face of injustice.
Martin, a teenager from Miami Gardens — who was usually portrayed by the media as a young black man who liked to get gas station snacks, wear his hoodie up and talk on the phone while he wandered suburban streets — was deemed the aggressor in a trial that claimed not to use the Stand Your Ground law as a principle argument. People were outraged.
The night of the verdict, thinking the worst, I believed the outraged people would channel their frustration together on the street. I turned off the news and grabbed my keys, a recorder and a hoodie. Ten minutes down the road, I was in Miami Gardens, the neighborhood where Trayvon Martin grew up, went to school and hung out with his friends.
I stopped in front of a fast-food joint where I thought I saw some teenagers gathering — the local news trucks were out there, too, waiting for something to happen. I joined the kids on the curb, blending in as a youth on the street rather than a reporter waiting for something to happen.
Eleizer Solis and his friends were simply on break from their shift at Wendy’s. They wanted to remain inconspicuous, due to the impending Trayvon Martin verdict. Solis, an 18-year-old who went to the same high school as Martin, was working late and hadn’t seen the trial’s end. When I told him, he looked sad, but not surprised.
Although the Dream Defenders did their best in the following weeks to sit in at the capitol and urge Rick Scott to call a special legislative session to review Stand Your Ground, a state task force has recommended not to repeal the law, even though states with such a law have higher homicide rates.
Sadly, but not surprisingly, cases like Martin’s show that Florida’s law is a “last man standing” escape route, allowing the armed — and living — defendant to escape long-term consequence.
No one will know exactly what happened on Feb. 26, 2012. Anyone can argue the necessity or proportionality of Martin and Zimmerman’s struggle and still be left with questions. Earlier this week, I tried to quell some of my doubts about Stand Your Ground with a lawyer who specializes in Florida’s gun laws.
Eric Friday, who delivered a guest lecture at a UF public relations class last Tuesday, is a self-defense attorney and lead counsel for state gun rights group, Florida Carry.
His explanation of the Zimmerman trial confirmed what I saw in Solis’ eyes in July: Trayvon Martin had been a victim of a system much bigger than just pure common sense.
Friday talked about how meeting force with force was legal under certain circumstances, in which a “law-abiding, armed citizen” can kill someone if they think that someone is going to commit a felony against them. He explained how the Stand Your Ground law was made in 2005, but the tenets of self-defense come from common law — the British system of law that the American forefathers used to create our justice system.
Immunity by way of violence is completely backward in today’s society, and this outdated legislation is part of the problem. I like to believe Martin didn’t die in vain. His death and the verdict of his killer are urging more people to back efforts by legislators to amend or repeal Stand Your Ground. Just last week, Florida Senate Democratic Leader Chris Smith filed his proposition to amend it for the second year in a row.
Friday made another point during his chat at UF last week. He said that historically, judges have always found life to be something of value.
I couldn’t agree more — it’s the law that has to change to make our lives less vulnerable to unjust death.
Daniela Guzman is a UF journalism senior. Her column runs on Mondays. A version of this column ran on page 7 on 9/9/2013 under the headline "Self-defense law change would prove life valued"
