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To little surprise to anyone paying attention, Louisiana is one of the most violent states in the nation, according to 24/7 Wall Street, a digital business news service that releases articles on studies of economic, industry, marketing political, and crime statistics.

Of even more concern than Louisiana’s ranking as the 5th most violent state, was the city of Monroe’s ranking as the most violent metropolitan area in the nation with 1,187 violent crimes for every 100,000 people. That was more than double the state rate of 566 violent crimes per 100,000 population.

While the precise cause of the increase in violent crime was not clear, poverty was given as a possible explanation. While 14 percent of Americans live below the poverty line, seven of the 10 states with the highest violent crime rate have higher poverty rates than the nation as a whole.

Alaska, with 804 violent crimes per 100,000, was the most violent state, according to the news release but that ranking can be misleading because of Alaska’s relatively small population. For example, the 52 murders statewide in 2016 was 12th fewest in the nation but because of the sparse population, the impact on the murder rate was greater than for a heavily populated area. The state’s imprisonment rate of 409 adults per 100,000 was 16th lowest and the state’s poverty rate of 9.9 percent was 6th lowest.

By contrast, Louisiana had 554 murders during 2016, which was 11th highest in the nation and more than 10 times as many as Alaska. Likewise, the state’s imprisonment rate of 1,019 adults per 100,000 was the highest in the nation (the only state whose imprisonment rate exceeds 1,000—a rating the state has held for a number of years. Oklahoma is close behind with 948 per 100,000. Louisiana’s poverty rate of 20.2 percent is 2nd highest in the nation.

Other states that had higher violent crime rates than Louisiana, in order, were:

  • New Mexico: 703 violent crimes per 100,000; 139 murders (22nd fewest), imprisonment rate of 440 adults per 100,000 (20th lowest), and a poverty rate of 19.8 percent (3rd highest).
  • Nevada: 678 violent crimes per 100,000; 224 murders (25th most); imprisonment rate of 577 adults per 100,000 (15th highest), and a poverty rate of 13.8 percent (23rd highest).
  • Tennessee: 633 violent crimes per 100,000; 486 murders (13th highest), imprisonment rate of 549 adults per 100,000 (18th highest), and a poverty rate of 15.8 percent (11th highest).

Right behind Louisiana were:

  • Arkansas, with 551 violent crimes per 100,000 (6th most violent), 216 murders (25th fewest), an imprisonment rate of 774 per 100,000 (6th highest), and a poverty rate of 17.2 percent (also 6th highest).
  • Alabama, with 532 violent crimes per 100,000 (7th most violent), 407 murders (17th most), imprisonment rate of 790 per 100,000 (4th highest), and a poverty rate of 17.1 percent (7th highest).

Mississippi, which is almost always clustered with Louisiana, Alabama, and Arkansas in such polls, defied the odds on this one, coming in with only 281 violent crimes per 100,000, which was 24th lowest. Its 238 murders, however, were 23rd most. Mississippi’s imprisonment rate of 803 per 100,000 was 3rd highest, and its poverty rate of 20.8 percent was highest in the nation.

Typically, such poll results are met with the “oh, well, this is Louisiana” reaction.

While such comments are, unfortunately, accurate, it is far past the time when we should simply yawn, laugh, and move on to LSU football, crawfish boils or some other distraction.

The only ones who are impacted by these types of results are all of us.

And the only ones who can change these studies are us.

Until we call a screeching halt to allowing LABI, the Louisiana Oil & Gas Association, nursing homes, pharmaceutical companies and banks to dictate the agenda for compliant legislators, things are never going to change. We are going to have to hold our elected officials accountable.

As things are now—and as it has been for decades—legislators are outnumbered by lobbyists by more than 10-1. It’s pretty overwhelming when you have more than 1500 lobbyists swarming around the House and Senate and the various committee rooms.

What’s more disheartening is the lobbyists are paid well to do thorough research and can regurgitate impressive sounding statistical data to legislators while members of the public who will be affected by a particular bill—and who do not have the advantage of a paid research staff—generally fall back on emotional arguments that legislators are unable to hear because of campaign cash stuffed in their ears. This creates an uneven playing field.

It is incumbent, therefore, that the citizenry educate itself on the legislative process. In today’s age of the Internet, it’s so very easy to track bills through committee and to even monitor committee meetings in real time through the legislature’s web page.

So, bottom line, we have no one to blame but ourselves for our state’s pathetic standings in areas that affect our quality of life—from income to crime to education to employment to our overall health.

To sit back and trust elected officials is to make a tragic mistake, as history has clearly shown. Many of these officials are power brokers who serve as important committee chairs and as Senate President and House Speaker. We simply cannot trust them as they long ago established a tradition of ignoring the wishes of the people and acting  not in our best interests but in the interests of campaign contributors—and far too often, to their own financial gain.

To continue to ignore the problem is to continue to settle for the status quo. LouisianaVoice has shown through the years that many of these elected officials are there only to build their own political base, to enrich themselves, to award family members with state jobs with little responsibility, and, or course, to collect campaign contributions to perpetuate their own tenure in office. Those were not among the reasons we sent them to Baton Rouge.

Until that mental approach on the part of our citizens is changed, nothing else will. We will always be at the bottom of those lists and we will continue voice our frustration only when LSU loses to Alabama.

 

It’s funny how a change in bosses can bring about an almost seamless change in philosophy on the part of subordinates who harbor a desire to keep their jobs.

Take Jimmy LeBlanc, Secretary of the Louisiana Department of Public Safety and Corrections, said in May of this year that he didn’t believe it would be worth it in terms of any cost savings to privatize five state PRISONS.

Yet, only five years earlier, on May 8, 2012, LeBlanc was quoted in New Orleans’ GAMBIT magazine as saying he hoped the $8 million per year in savings from the privatization of just a single state prison—Avoyelles Correctional Center (AVC) in Cottonport—could be reinvested into rehabilitative programs. He even said AVC was an ideal candidate for the plan because it was similar to the privately-run facilities in Winn and Allen parishes.

What’s the reason behind LeBlanc’s position change?

Well, for openers, in 2012, he was serving as head of corrections as an appointee of then-Republican Gov. Bobby Jindal. Today, he is serving in the administration of Democratic Gov. John Bel Edwards, who reappointed him in January 2016.

The contrasting positions appear to be classic examples of political hacks swaying with the prevailing winds. Jindal wanted to privatize prisons so he could get an infusion of quick cash to smooth over annual gaping holes in his budget. Edwards, not so much. In fact, Edwards is downright opposed to the idea of privatization, leaning instead toward reducing the state’s prison population by freeing non-violent offenders. Jindal preferred keeping the prison beds full in order to keep a continuous flow of cash to private prison operators who are paid on the basis of head counts.

But the contrast doesn’t end there.

As pointed out in the 2012 Gambit article, LeBlanc said AVC was an ideal candidate for privatization because it was so similar to those private facilities in Winn and Allen. At that time, they had been downgraded to “jail” status, thereby allowing state officials to eliminate education and rehabilitation programs.

Well, guess what?

Last May, LeBlanc was singing a different tune about the attributes of those facilities, saying that he was in favor of restoring the Winn and Allen facilities to “prison” status, a move that would necessarily bring the state back into the picture. Apparently, what was “ideal” under the Jindal administration didn’t quite measure up under Edwards. But LeBlanc is nothing if not flexible.

It’s probably that flexibility that has allowed LeBlanc and others in the Department of Public Safety to survive when appointees in other agencies were shown the door with the ushering in of a new administration.

Survival. It’s a great motivator.

General Jeff Landry remains the same self-serving, opportunistic, suck-up sycophant he has been since his first run at public office.

This is the same attorney general who almost daily sends out glowing press releases designed to put him in the best possible light as he gears up for what he hopes will a run for the state’s highest office—if not in 2019 against John Bel Edwards, then sometime in short order thereafter.

By taking full advantage of his agency’s public information office which by now is sorely challenged to keep coming up with sufficient superlatives—at taxpayer cost, no less—Landry has managed to see to it that every single news release is all about him first and the attorney general’s various enforcement divisions second.

Landry, taking over from another cruel joke of attorney general foisted upon Louisiana’s electorate in 2016, has made a career of nabbing deviates who like to download kiddie porn (or at least announcing that he, apparently personally nabbed them), low-ranking civil servants with no political connections who attempt to rake money off the top of various programs, including Medicaid, and a scam artist here and there.

All that’s well and good. Those people should be arrested. But where has Landry been in cases involving the politically powerful appointees, legislators who use campaign funds to pay for personal expenses like luxury autos, payments of income taxes and even ethics fines? It’s relatively easy to bust a town clerk somewhere in north Louisiana or even a DHH employee who gets a little greedy. But there are other big-time crooks a-plenty in state government who Landry seems to be able to quietly ignore.

The Louisiana Attorney General’s office is different from its counterparts in other states, thanks to the lobbying efforts of Louisiana’s district attorneys way back in 1974 when the current State Constitution was written and subsequently adopted by voters. The District Attorneys Association, jealous of its turf, managed to overcome the objections of then-Attorney General William Gueste in ramming through the Constitutional Convention a provision that the attorney general’s office could not intervene in local investigations unless invited to do so by the local DA.

Yet, here we have Landry churning out those news releases almost daily about some major arrest of some perpetrator somewhere in the state, raising the question of how he manages to interject his office into so many of these local matters. Even in the case of low-hanging fruit like state civil servants, should he involve his office in the arrest of say, a DHH employee for stealing from Medicaid and Medicaid or the intended recipient of the Medicaid benefits decides to sue DHH, Landry has himself a sure-fire pickle called conflict of interests.

You see, under the present structure of his office, his primary job is to defend, not prosecute, state agencies. Yet, in case of such litigation, he would be in charge of overseeing the AG attorney or contract attorney who is called upon to defend DHH. That in turn raises another question: How can he investigate an agency and defend it?

And most recently, LouisianaVoice received in its email inbox a puff piece from Landry lauding the nomination of Brandon Fremin as U.S. ATTORNEY for Louisiana’s Middle District. Fremin, you see, is Criminal Director “for General Landry’s office,” the news release says, where he oversees several sections, including general prosecutions, insurance fraud “and the award-winning Medicaid Fraud Control Unit.”

“Under his watch, over 15 public officials have been arrested for public corruption charges—many of whom are currently being prosecuted by the LADOJ (Louisiana Department of Justice, as the AG’s office is officially known).”

But how many of those 15 held positions of supervisors or higher? Better yet, how many cases of supervisory sexual harassment cases has Landry investigated during his brief tenure? Several such reports have been received by LouisianaVoice in recent months and we are attempting to investigate them ourselves, despite the lack the personnel and authority that Landry has at his disposal.

And just for good measure, it would be interesting to learn why he hired an employee for his Fraud Division who herself had been convicted of FRAUD.

Calling Fremin’s nomination a “grand slam homerun,” Landry lost no time in moving the dialogue to a me, me, me theme. “Under my administration,” he trumpeted (emphasis added), “our office (did he really say “our”?) has created a strong partnership with our federal partners and we look forward to continuing this with Brandon in leadership. Brandon will continue to help make Louisiana an even better place to live, work, and raise our families. I hope he is quickly confirmed by the Senate.”

There is one thing we’d love to see occur before the “Criminal Director for General Landry’s office” departs for the Federal Building downtown. As Director of the AG’s Criminal Division, we can only assume it is he who is ostensibly conducting the investigation of that jailhouse  RAPE of a 17-year-old girl in April 2016—an investigation now moving into its 19th month without a sign of resolution.

We’ve asked before and we’ll ask again: “General” Landry, just how long does it take to investigate a rape in the known confines space of a jail cell where the date of the assault and the identities of the victim and the assailant are all known to investigators?

Because the Union Parish district attorney sits on a governing board that runs the Union Parish Detention Center, he rightly recused himself and asked the AG’s office to conduct an investigation.

Inspector Clouseau could’ve hit a “grand slam homerun” on this one in a week. Yet that great champion of law and order, Jeff Landry, he of higher political aspirations, can’t seem to get traction after 18 months.

Vincent Simmons has been imprisoned at the Louisiana State Penitentiary at Angola for 40 years for a crime that he almost certainly did not commit and our vaunted system of justice is largely responsible for his inability to get a fair hearing.

The timeline of events alone should be reason enough to have granted him a new trial decades ago. Yet, he continues to languish at “the farm,” the name bestowed upon Angola in a 1998 documentary about Louisiana’s notorious maximum-security prison.

For openers, the time between public defender Harold Brouillette’s filing of a motion for preliminary hearing and Simmons’s conviction was an astonishingly short interval of only 27 days, hardly sufficient time to put on any semblance of a defense.

Normally, it takes much longer between an accused’s arrest and his trial. This is so defense attorneys can compile a list of witnesses, engage expert testimony, and obtain all evidence possessed by prosecutors. Sexual assault cases typically take SIX MONTHS between indictment and trial, according to the Bureau of Justice Statistics.

It took half that long for the supposed victims to come forward and report that they’d been raped.

Here is the TIMELINE of events:

Monday, May 7, 1977—Twin 14-year-old sisters are riding around with their 18-yeaar-old cousin, Keith Laborde when they allegedly encountered an unknown black man at a 7-Eleven convenience store who asked them to give him a ride to his home. En route, he pulls a gun and forces Laborde to drive down a remote country road to a spot near a lake and there rapes the two girls.

Sunday, May 22, 1977—The two girls report—for the first time—to Sheriff “Potch” Didier, Maj. Fablus Didier, Capt. Floyd Juneau and Deputy Barbara DeCuir at the Avoyelles Parish Sheriff’s Office that a “black man” raped them on May 9, 1977.

7 a.m., Monday, May 23, 1977—Shift begins for Juneau and Lt. Robert Laborde (Laborde is a cousin of Keith Laborde).

8 a.m., Monday May 23, 1977—Juneau and Laborde make the decision to arrest Vincent Simmons.

9 a.m., Monday May 23, 1977—Simmons is walking down Waddil Street in Marksville when Juneau and Laborde, passing by on patrol, arrest him—without a warrant—on two counts of aggravated rape. Sheriff Didier orders a lineup. The lineup consists of seven blacks and one white. Of the eight men in the lineup, Simmons is the only one in handcuffs. Keith Laborde and the two girls observe the lineup from behind a mirror and pick out Simmons even though the girls had said all black men looked alike to them. Simmons is taken upstairs but is never interrogated. When Simmons refuses to sign a confession that had already been prepared by Laborde, he is shot in his left chest by Laborde. Laborde and Capt. Melvin Villemarette claim that Simmons took Villemarette’s gun and tried to shoot them, though he is never charged with that offense. Simmons is transferred to Huey P. Long Hospital in Pineville. Judge Earl Edwards now issues the warrant for the arrest of Simmons for the rape of the girls.

Tuesday, May 24, 1977—Coroner F.P. Bordelon, MD, examines both girls and discovers that one of the girl’s hymen is still intact, indicating she is still a virgin. The other girl admits to having had consensual sexual intercourse nine months earlier.

Friday, May 27, 1977—Simmons is released from the hospital and he is transferred back to the Avoyelles Parish jail.

Friday June 30, 1977—An Avoyelles Parish grand jury indicts Simmons on two counts of aggravated rape and two counts of attempted murder. Dr. Bordelon formulates his findings about his medical examination of the two girls and sends report to District Attorney Eddie Knoll. During trial of Simmons, jurors never learn of the existence of this report.

Thursday, June 23, 1977—Public defender Harold Brouillette, later to be elected a state district court judge, files a motion for a preliminary hearing. Judge Edwards orders that a preliminary hearing be held in the case of State of Louisiana vs. Vincent Simmons on the two counts of aggravated rape at 1 p.m. on Wednesday, July 7, 1977.

Wednesday, June 29, 1977—U.S. Supreme Court rules in Coker v. Georgia that the death penalty is unconstitutional for the crime of rape. This means that pursuant to the decision, the penalty for aggravated rape is only 20 years per count as opposed to attempted aggravated rape, for which no penalties had been set.

Thursday, July 7, 1977—At the 1 p.m. preliminary hearing, Judge Edwards schedules Simmons’s trial for July 18, 1977, giving Brouillette only 11 days to prepare for trial. This is known as a court’s “rocket docket,” whereby certain cases are moved to the top of the court’s list of scheduled cases.

Thursday, July 14, 1977—Assistant District Attorney Jeanette Knoll, wife of District Attorney Eddie Knoll, files a motion to amend the indictment to two counts of attempted aggravated rape. Judge Edwards signs the motion behind closed doors—without a second grand jury hearing. This opens the way for prosecutors to seek penalties of 50 years imprisonment for each count of attempted aggravated rape. Jeanette Knoll would later be elected to the Louisiana State Supreme Court.

Monday, July 18, 1977—Jury selection begins in the trial of Vincent Simmons.

Tuesday, July 19, 1977, and Wednesday, July 20, 1977—Two-day trial of Vincent Simmons is held, concluding in a guilty verdict on each count of attempted aggravated rape.

Thursday, July 28, 1977—Judge Earl Edwards imposes a 100-year sentence (50 years for each count, to run consecutively) on Simmons.

So, there you have it: a delayed report of rape to the suspiciously quick arrest, an equally quick trial that made it impossible for a public defender with no funds to retain expert witnesses or to conduct extensive investigations, to the manipulation of charges so as to obtain the maximum punishment for a crime that Simmons most likely never committed. The fast track his case was put on—with such an obvious lack of supporting evidence—makes it appear that authorities were almost desperate in their haste to run him through the system and get a conviction. To think those charged with protecting our rights and freedoms would stoop to such tactics should send a chill down all our spines for who’s to say we might not be the next to undergo such treatment at the hands of the law and order advocates?

Someone coined the phrase “Justice delayed is justice denied.” This rings especially true in the case of Vincent Simmons. Justice for him has been delayed for 40 years—and counting. His story and sadly, as is true of so many others like him, is the type justice that a defendant might expect to encounter when he doesn’t have:

  • Money;
  • Connections;
  • A name that screams influence;
  • Highly-paid attorneys;
  • The right color skin.

For an example of all the above, see LOUIS ACKEL.