the so-called milk carton kids…There is a supernaturally wicked drive behind abortion which brings back the medieval heresy of Albigensianism… I hope the professional baby-killing industry will not be too offended when I say to them they are merely pawns in a much bigger choice.”
His rambling address neared its conclusion. He had taken the court on a tour through his life and thinking, sliding from some relatively sober reflection to the fires of hell. Was it an act? It was surely not simply the usual Romanita. It was as though his psychological skin was peeling away. Had jail done that to him? Jim Kopp, Atomic Dog, had lived a life that was unusual in its scope, on a broad stage, taking him around the world, always on the move, pursuing a mission that knew no boundaries. But his life now was in a cage, his world confined to a small concrete room. And that was not going to change.
As Kopp wound down his comments, Judge D’Amico sat slumped in his chair, his cheek resting on his hand. He gets up and talks for, what, an hour and a half, almost two, and spends the entire time not on whether he intended to kill, but on why these doctors must be stopped? You’ve got your cause, fine, knock yourself out, thought D’Amico. But don’t go around killing people, and don’t tell me that it’s OK.
“What would I do if I were let out in the street?” Kopp said. “This depends on the country, Your Honor. Will we, in America, still be killing children? If so, then I will stay duty-bound to do something about it… I have always said, Judge, ‘Show me—I’m from Missouri.’ Show me a better way, but it better include a real chance for babies, not just rhetoric.”
He said he had heard that several of the women who had planned to have abortions the morning after Slepian was killed had decided to keep their children. “Four or five children who are alive today because Dr. Slepian was unable to kill on Saturday, October 24, are now almost four years old. Two or three of them are black. They are all beautiful, happy, human lives. They are walking the streets of Buffalo, New York, and their mothers love them. Fifty years from now they will be taking care of their mothers in their old age. Is this such a terrible thing? Which of these children should be dead today? I say none of them.”
His future? “My days of trying to save children are obviously over.” But the number of doctors performing abortions has dropped, he said, from 2,300 in 1990 to 800 in 2002. “Every one that has quietly retired from mass murder is completely safe from me or anyone like me. Any mass murderer who is left still doing abortions, if you are concerned for your safety, then quit. Do you want to be the last abortionist doing abortions in America?”
Would others follow in his footsteps? “I am not aware of any conspiracy to use force to save children. My younger brothers and sisters in the movement may discover that independent simultaneous operation is the best way to save children… They may soon come to realize if they don’t do it, it doesn’t get done.”
Defiance and the rule of law? “The Supreme Court, I will not kneel and worship before them. I defy them. Anyone who provides protection to mass murderers, whether under the color of law or not, is participating in murder. Let me briefly suggest another way of looking at this. If the Supreme Court ruled tomorrow that black people show up at the local train station with an O-ring around their neck—‘Bring a lunch, you are going for a long train ride, going back to Mississippi, sorry, the Supreme Court changes its mind again’—would you enforce the law? Would you throw Harriet Tubman in jail for trying to smuggle these slaves? I suppose if the court ruled tomorrow that Jewish people must report to the closest train station wearing the Star of David—‘Bring a lunch, wear a coat, you are going for a ride’—would you enforce that law, too? You would not. You are morally obligated to refuse to punish me.
“I know that sounds laughable in the context of the review of this case. It isn’t laughable to me, Judge. You are morally obliged to refuse to punish me just as surely as you are required to refrain from participating in sending Jewish people, or those who protect them, to their death. In any event, Judge, there are worse things than life in general. Jail—jail is not so bad, nowhere near as bad as being out of custody and constantly wondering what else could be done for the babies…I do not see myself how God can bless a country which gives safe haven to child murderers, or to the practice of child murder. But even now He stands ready to forgive, if we will turn away from child murder. It’s never too late to seek forgiveness, but first we must turn away from child murder. He will enable us to do that, if we ask Him to. Thank you, Your Honor.”
Chapter 26 ~ A Complex Martyrdom
“Well,” said the judge. “I guess we have heard a great deal of information this morning.” Michael D’Amico did not typically say much at sentencing. Speech-making was not his style. But this time was different. James Kopp would not have the last word, not in his court. “You are not going to hear a speech or a sermon,” said D’Amico. “Nevertheless, I feel compelled to say a few things.”
First, he recognized the Slepians. “The letters I have received with regard to this sentencing indicate to me the depth of the loss that has been suffered and the fact that there are many in this community who share your grief.” Second, he countered the shots taken by the defense at the FBI and police. “Mr. Barket has asked me to admonish them. I think the reverse is true.”
Third, the judge addressed Kopp’s intent. “It’s clear the action was premeditated, there’s no doubt about that. It is inconceivable to me that you did not expect your actions would result in the death of Dr. Slepian. I think that if Mr. Marusak or someone else could respond to what you said they would have a lot to say. Frankly, I don’t want to hear it. But I think that there is one comment that you made that almost demands a response and you somehow equated the action of Dr. Slepian with some racial issue. Bald accusations are easy to make. Unfortunately, he’s not here to respond to them and that’s your responsibility. I guess in spite of all your education and all your intelligence, Mr. Kopp, there is one thing you haven’t learned and that’s that the pursuit of one’s goal, your objective, that no matter how moral or just it may appear, does not permit the infliction of violence on your adversary. What may appear righteous to you may appear immoral to someone else. And obviously the reverse is true. The bottom line, I suspect, is that no civilized society can tolerate or excuse excesses that are tantamount to anarchy or to terrorism.”
He issued a final rejoinder to Barket, who had said in his remarks earlier in the day that John Brown had been hung for fighting slavery but today was considered a hero, while the judge who sentenced him was nothing more than an historical footnote. “With regard to the comparison to the John Brown case, Mr. Barket, I will take my chances.”
He looked at Kopp. “It is the judgment of this court, Mr. Kopp, that you be sentenced to an indeterminate sentence having a maximum of life imprisonment. The court hereby imposes a minimum period of 25 years.” Kopp turned to Barket and smiled. D’Amico rose, the crowded courtroom followed suit. And James Charles Kopp was taken away.
“Shame on America! Shame on America!”
The voice of protest outside court belonged to a small black woman named Hettie Pasco. She had picketed for years at the clinic where Slepian had worked. “How about legalizing mass murder in America?” she shouted. “Abortion is a weapon of mass destruction!”
Joe Marusak left Courtroom Number One and strode down the corridor and out of the old building. He did about a halfdozen homicide trials a year. Nothing shocked him anymore, but this one had been the most bizarre trial he had ever worked. He had spent a lot of time analyzing Kopp’s actions and building what in essence was a behavioral profile of the sniper to present in court. But in hindsight, Marusak still didn’t quite know what to make of the man. He had been handed evidence to work with to prove that Kopp had intended to kill. But that was it. It wasn’t his job to understand Kopp. He just needed to prove a fact, and he had done so.
Later, Judge Michael D’Amico relaxed in his office, the adjoining courtroom empty and quiet. He reflected on the case. Kopp was clearly a bright guy, educated. Who knows what forces someone like that into activism—and what throws the switch inside that turns him into Atomic Dog or whatever the hell his name was, he mused. There was something at some point that caused Kopp to surrender his life, essentially, to this cause, and ultimately it led to a martyrdom complex. D’Amico shook his head. Would that complex persist in Kopp’s thinking for the rest of his life? He imagined the convicted man in jail. One day, down the road, it hits him: I’m the one sitting in prison and everyone else is out there, free—my lawyers, allies in America and abroad. They’re all back to normal, and I’m sitting here in prison. And maybe, thought D’Amico, at that point he says, Holy cow—what the hell have I done? Maybe then he realizes he wasn’t so smart.
On the other hand, concluded D’Amico, Kopp might carry his belief in the cause to his grave.
