Raymond Santana Jr. addressed an enthusiastic crowd at Las Vegas campus
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The crowd at Nathan Horn Theatre on the campus of the College of Southern Nevada greeted the somewhat portly, middle-aged man with loud applause, whistles, and a standing ovation.
The mostly black audience had gathered to hear Raymond Santana Jr. speak of his transformation from a maligned, mistreated, and wrongly convicted juvenile to a nationally- known and sought after public speaker.
Santana, one of five black and Latino teens, once dubbed "The Central Park Five" by the New York press, didn't disappoint.
Santana's personal and public ordeal began at age 14 when he and four other youth (Antron McCray, 15; Kevin Richardson, 15; Korey Wise,16; and Yusaf Salaam, 15 ) were arrested in Central Park for allegedly beating and raping a white female jogger, Trisha Meili.
The case earned the vitriol of the New York City media, politicians, and police department. In April 1989, New York Post columnist Pete Hamill wrote:
"(They come) from a world of crack, welfare, guns, knives, indifference and ignorance…a land with no fathers…to smash, hurt, rob, stomp, rape. The enemies were rich. The enemies were white.”
In his usual inflammatory style, Donald Trump, then a New York businessman, took out a full page New York Times ad and went on television urging the death penalty for the teens before they even had been tried.
Hamill and Trump couldn't have gotten it more wrong. These boys came from low-income but loving families with few resources and little knowledge of how to protect their sons' rights or how to fight the charges.
Consequently, Santana (and his friends) spent decades in prison, most of those years confused and angry over their wrongful conviction. He says each of them suffers varying degrees of residual trauma: recurring bad memories, an inability to sustain healthy relationships with loved ones or the effects of institutionalization.
Today, however, Santana travels the country speaking to youth, adults, and anyone who cares about his personal losses and triumphs:
"We have to be strategic about (fighting) the system; we're playing checkers while they're playing chess.""We need chiefs of police, mayors, doctors, and lawyers in positions of power to bring about change."
"Telling my story became part of my healing process."
"I have learned how to channel my energies, focus on goals, and practice forgiveness."
"In the documentary, you only see a fraction of what (Korey Wise) went through."
“Before the documentary, we thought we knew everything about each other's story.""
The(prison) system molded me to become a fighter.""
My father stopped coming to the trial. I was 14 and dealing with the law and looked to him for guidance. I felt let down."
Santana is blessed with support from activists, celebrities, legal experts, and community members yet admits that he is still healing, "a work-in-progress."
What kind of support or advocacy is available for thousands of men and women released from prison with few resources, damaged relationships, limited education and/or work experience, and mental health or addiction issues?
Raymond Santana challenged the audience to be agents of change for equal justice in our communities and the nation.
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