The Matlock Blog

A Day of Firsts

On Friday afternoon, in a small, crowded conference room of the Omni Hotel in downtown Fort Worth, the twenty-five year struggle to clear the name of Tim Cole officially ended.  And his true legacy began.

Texas Governor Rick Perry officially pardoned Tim Cole for his 1986 conviction as the "Tech Rapist."  Twenty-five years ago, a man terrorized women on the Texas Tech campus in Lubbock.  Tim Cole was arrested, tried, and convicted.  Unfortunately, he died in prison from complications from asthma and heart problems.  He was 39.

However, during the last several years, DNA evidence proved Cole innocent of the crimes for which he was convicted.  Through tireless work by the Innocence Project and others, Cole was recommended for a pardon.  Governor Perry agreed.  It culminated today.

Under the hot lights of the television cameras, the governor proudly proclaimed Tim Cole pardoned, and then sought to provide the deepest sympathies of the people of the State of Texas to his mother.  Various local legislators spoke about this or that.  Some claiming there would be significant changes to the criminal justice system after this.  Some simply claiming they working on bills to make this an easier process.

Whether new legislation comes to pass or not, perhaps the lasting memory of the Tim Cole saga will be the firsts involved in the case.

Tim Cole, convicted of a crime he did not commit, and who died in prison, is the first person in the history of Texas to receive a posthumous pardon.  He is also the first person posthumously be exonerated by DNA evidence.

There is a saying that it is better ten guilty men go free than for one innocent man be wrongfully convicted.  I wonder if that is on Tim Cole's headstone?

What's in a name?

March 2nd proved to be an interesting day in local judicial politics.  Among other things, it marked the first election contest for the newly-created 432nd District Court.  It also marked the end for the recently-appointed judge, Ruben Gonzalez.

As you'll recall from here, the legislature created a new court for Tarrant County, and Ruben Gonzalez, a local defense attorney and former prosecutor with the D.A.'s office, was appointed to the bench by Governor Perry.  When the primary season arose, Judge Gonzalez quickly faced an opponent in the Republican Primary.  Longtime defense attorney and family law attorney Tom Zachry entered the race against Judge Gonzalez playing the experience card.  

Personally, I thought Judge Gonzalez would eek out a close win in the primary.  He was, after all, the incumbent appointed by a very popular governor.  Based on the campaigns of both men, it didn't seem to be close.  Gonzalez had not only been very active in local politics for years, but seemed to outspend Zachry on the campaign trail by at least 10-to-1.  At least that's my informal guess.  (I saw Gonzalez signs and material everywhere; I saw one Zachry sign go up and come down the same day.)

Yet despite the campaigning, Judge Gonzalez lost.  Big.  As in by 20 points.  

Now whether it was a result of voters choosing experience over incumbency, Gonzalez' repeated gaffes during his brief term (75 years for a case without a dead body?  Really?), or something else, the result was a brief term as judge for Gonzalez and a newly-elected Tom Zachry taking over the 432nd District  Court.

But it's really the "something else" that is potentially intriguing.  In a recent article in the Star-Telegram, the issue of race playing a big role in the recent Republican primary for Railroad Commissioner was discussed.  Essentially, the idea was that the incumbent that was supported by the governor lost because of his Hispanic last name.  His conclusion is based on the perception that he was not only highly-qualified, but also the incumbent, as well as endorsed by the governor himself.  Not only that, but all of the so-called political experts saw nothing but an easy win for him.  

In the article, he basically claims that voters would vote for a caucasian-named candidate at the expense of the potentially more-qualified Hispanic-named candidate.  I think it's an oversimplification, but an interesting point.  Especially in light of the race for the 432nd bench.

From an experience perspective, it's really hard to argue that either Judge Gonzalez or Judge-elect Zachry don't each possess enough experience to be a felony court judge.  Or, I suppose, don't possess enough.  Yet they each handled criminal cases for over a decade.  They seemed to be thought of as competent by their peers.  So what explains the twenty point loss by Judge Gonzalez?  Is it really his last name?

The morning after the election, I literally received at least a dozen phone calls and emails wondering how much race had to do with that election.  I have a hard time believing that was a major contributor to the results, but in the face of everything else (more, perhaps better campaigning by Gonzalez, incumbency, recency of appointment by the governor), you have to wonder.

Perhaps my hesitation has to do with the fact that there is already one Hispanic misdemeanor judge and two African-American felony court judges.  But the cynic in me says there is nothing about their names on the ballot (Nekhom, Salvant, or Sturns) that would cause a voter a moment of pause.

So the question comes down to did Tarrant County Republicans really unseat a sitting district court judge just because his last name is Gonzalez?  I have a hard time believing it.  While I would like to chalk it up to the issues Judge Gonzalez had during his brief term (should a sitting judge really have a campaign picture of him standing in front of law enforcement officials?  So much for fair and impartial I guess), I still can't get over the fact that Zachry seemed to do very little on the campaign trail.  

But in the end, the good Republican voters of Tarrant County had the opportunity to elect its first Hispanic felony court district judge.  They didn't.  Was it a conscious decision, or something else?  Good question.  We, as local Republicans, may have lost an opportunity.

But what the hell do I know?