The Last Round
**note: This article explains the history of Ralph's case, but it's not up-to-date. Find the most current updates at Ralph's Case.
You don't have to be a boxing aficionado to understand the celebrity status Smokin' Joe Frazier enjoy in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and around the world. Millions of fight fans and those who simply wanted to witness history in its making could ever forget the memorable fights between Smokin' Joe and Muhammad Ali, the Greatest. There were three bloody wars between them - The most spectacular fight being "The Thriller in Manila," and one that is forever etched into the annals of boxing history. Years after he'd retired, Joe Frazier opened several businesses in and around Philadelphia. One such establishment was "Joe Frazier's Restaurant," which catered to an upscale clientele.
On a warm spring day in 1982, two men burst into the restaurant with guns drawn and announced a hold up. When it was over three victims lay dead from gunshot wounds. The brutal murders, which had tragically occurred in an establishment owned by the city's most beloved resident - sent shock waves rippling through the community. The police scoured the city in search of the killers.
Young Ralph Trent Stokes, a 19-years old black male, who was once a restaurant worker at Frazier's, soon learned that he was the central focus of the investigation. There was word on the street that the police were going to kill him on sight. Fear seized him because in the city of Philadelphia, the racist police murdered young black men with impunity. Stokes knew he had absolutely nothing to do with this vicious crime - so he immediately called his attorney and went down to the police station. A guilty man would have taken flight - like the actual triggermen in this case, Donald "Razor" Jackson and Eric Burley, who, court records show - made a hurried hegira to Atlantic City, New Jersey, and New York City, shortly after the murders.
Stokes told the cadre of homicide detectives that interrogated him he knew absolutely nothing about the crime, that there was nothing he could proffer. They assailed him with a fusillade of verbal obscenities and leading questions, and he answered them the best he could. The cops' angry interrogatories resounded off the grimy, graffiti-scarred walls of the holding cell with the fury of vicious attack dogs howling in the night. But they had no legal reason to hold the young suspect simply because he'd once been an employee of Joe Fraizier's - so they begrudgingly released him.
He emerged from the police station, a proud and happy young man, thinking it was over. He didn't know the reputations and careers of the Philadelphia homicide detectives, assigned to this case, were on the line. And he didn't know they all were under enormous pressure from the District Attorney's office to quickly make an arrest in this case - and Stokes' euphoria was short-lived - on the basis of a statement from one of the actual culprits - the police stormed his home, and tore it apart in search of evidence linking him to this crime - but did not find a single shred or anything that could vaguely inculpate him. They arrested him anyway, and in spite of the absence of evidence - Stokes was charged with triple murder.
News of the arrest dominated the front pages of local newspapers for months, and it was customary for the nightly news anchors to lead in with titillating details about the Joe Frazier Restaurant case. Before the commencement of his trial, the private attorney, who had accompanied Stokes to the police station, abandoned him - and the court appointed a pitifully inept attorney to represent the defendant. Defence lawyer Malcolm Waldron confided to his client that he hadn't handled a criminal case - particularly a capital case of this magnitude - in twenty years! He'd only litigated a hand full of insurance cases - and the complexities of affirmative defences and trial strategies were unfamiliar and inauspicious terrains. He did no investigation, and he called no witnesses who could have established the defendant's whereabouts at the time of the offence. This was crucial to counter the maliciously false accusations by his now co-defendant who seized upon the opportunity to testify against Stokes. In exchange for a life sentence, and another, who was given little or no jail time, they were eager to be the prosecution's star witnesses. They would do or say anything. One co-defendant was allowed unsupervised sexual liaisons with his wife in an upscale hotel. He was supplied with illegal drugs and other amenities readily available to pampered snitches. They both pled guilty well before trial, confessing their guilt well before trial, confessing their guilt to escape death - but they weren't sentenced until Stokes was found guilty. The trial was a farce. An alleged eye witness told the police that on the day of the murders he couldn't identify anyone, for how could he? They had on ski-masks, he told them, masks that covered their entire face - and it was impossible to proffer an accurate description as to the weight, height, or facial features. He couldn't even tell whether the robbers were black or white. His story changed once he got on the stand. Oh, yes that was him he swore. He was able to see his eyeballs through the two small holes in the black ski-masks. Yeah, he was positive in his identification of the defendant. He knew it had to be him - because of the two killers - Stokes, the defendant, was the "shortest one". This witness told the police three different stories of what occurred that day - and it was clear that the final version was meticulously tailored to fit the prosecution's twisted scheme. The state utilized unspeakable tactics in insuring a conviction - and forging signatures on statements inculpating the defendant was one of it's cruelest tricks imaginable. The prosecution's star witness, Donald Blackson, was cross-examined by defence attorney Malcolm Waldron about this egregious misconduct:
Waldron:
"Do you have Commonwealth's exhibit number 34 in front of you?"
Blackson:
"Yes"
Waldron:
"Did I ask you whether or not they were your signatures on pages 1, 2, 3, 4 and 5?"
Blackson:
"Yes"
Waldron:
"And what did you tell me about your signature?"
Blackson:
"That it didn't look like my handwriting."
Here, a prosecution witness admitted under oath that he hadn't even endorsed the statement accusing a man of being involved in a triple murder that inevitable sent him to death row. Then who did?, his pitifully inept attorney should have asked. It became clear that the evidence against the defendant was deliberately fabricated.
Waldron:
"Did I ask you whether you had a conversation with Mr. Stokes about the incident referred to in that statement?"
Blackson:
"Yes"
Waldron:
"About the things you said in that statement? And, did you tell me that, "I don't remember whether I talked to him?""
Blackson:
"That's what I told you, that I didn't remember. Yes"
Waldron:
"Now, you were asked here today if you remembered a conversation on March 11, 1982. Isn't it a fact that you don't know whether you had a conversation with the defendant?"
Blackson:
"Well, I went over my testimony, and from my testimony, it said that I had talked to the defendant on the day of the murders."
Waldron:
"Well, do you really remember that, to be true now?"
Blackson:
"No"
Any reasonable man or woman could deduce, from this portion of the trial transcripts - that this witness' testimony was not only patently manufactured, but perjurious. He was merely one player out of a sickening sequence of tainted witnesses for the prosecution - like Philadelphia homicide detective Robert Kane, who was under state and federal investigation for police corruption, and tampering with evidence. Detective Kane testified that he was the central figure at the scene of the crime, who collected, and preserved crucial physical evidence. Introduced positional photographs and body charts of the victims. He was allowed, (without any objections from his attorney) - to testify about the ballistic evidence concerning bullets that were in no way connected to the crime - though the jury was told they were. Kane swore under oath that his observations of the crime scene and the critical evidence he'd collected there undeniably established the defendant's guilt - but documentary proof, recorded in police log books, clearly contradicts this ridiculous assertion - because he was somewhere else at the time, and his presence at the crime scene would have been physically impossible.
Stokes was barely 19 years old - one of the youngest defendants to be sentenced to death in the state of Pennsylvania at the time. In a hellacious battle for his young life, the state was a formidable opponent - and without a competent attorney - it was no contest. There are no screaming crowds of supporters, no strict referees issuing stern warnings against the state's dirty and illegal tactics. Mr. Stokes needs your help. His appeals are nearly exhausted. This is his biggest fight. This is the last round.
Copyright © 1997 R. S. Lewis
You don't have to be a boxing aficionado to understand the celebrity status Smokin' Joe Frazier enjoy in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and around the world. Millions of fight fans and those who simply wanted to witness history in its making could ever forget the memorable fights between Smokin' Joe and Muhammad Ali, the Greatest. There were three bloody wars between them - The most spectacular fight being "The Thriller in Manila," and one that is forever etched into the annals of boxing history. Years after he'd retired, Joe Frazier opened several businesses in and around Philadelphia. One such establishment was "Joe Frazier's Restaurant," which catered to an upscale clientele.
On a warm spring day in 1982, two men burst into the restaurant with guns drawn and announced a hold up. When it was over three victims lay dead from gunshot wounds. The brutal murders, which had tragically occurred in an establishment owned by the city's most beloved resident - sent shock waves rippling through the community. The police scoured the city in search of the killers.
Young Ralph Trent Stokes, a 19-years old black male, who was once a restaurant worker at Frazier's, soon learned that he was the central focus of the investigation. There was word on the street that the police were going to kill him on sight. Fear seized him because in the city of Philadelphia, the racist police murdered young black men with impunity. Stokes knew he had absolutely nothing to do with this vicious crime - so he immediately called his attorney and went down to the police station. A guilty man would have taken flight - like the actual triggermen in this case, Donald "Razor" Jackson and Eric Burley, who, court records show - made a hurried hegira to Atlantic City, New Jersey, and New York City, shortly after the murders.
Stokes told the cadre of homicide detectives that interrogated him he knew absolutely nothing about the crime, that there was nothing he could proffer. They assailed him with a fusillade of verbal obscenities and leading questions, and he answered them the best he could. The cops' angry interrogatories resounded off the grimy, graffiti-scarred walls of the holding cell with the fury of vicious attack dogs howling in the night. But they had no legal reason to hold the young suspect simply because he'd once been an employee of Joe Fraizier's - so they begrudgingly released him.
He emerged from the police station, a proud and happy young man, thinking it was over. He didn't know the reputations and careers of the Philadelphia homicide detectives, assigned to this case, were on the line. And he didn't know they all were under enormous pressure from the District Attorney's office to quickly make an arrest in this case - and Stokes' euphoria was short-lived - on the basis of a statement from one of the actual culprits - the police stormed his home, and tore it apart in search of evidence linking him to this crime - but did not find a single shred or anything that could vaguely inculpate him. They arrested him anyway, and in spite of the absence of evidence - Stokes was charged with triple murder.
News of the arrest dominated the front pages of local newspapers for months, and it was customary for the nightly news anchors to lead in with titillating details about the Joe Frazier Restaurant case. Before the commencement of his trial, the private attorney, who had accompanied Stokes to the police station, abandoned him - and the court appointed a pitifully inept attorney to represent the defendant. Defence lawyer Malcolm Waldron confided to his client that he hadn't handled a criminal case - particularly a capital case of this magnitude - in twenty years! He'd only litigated a hand full of insurance cases - and the complexities of affirmative defences and trial strategies were unfamiliar and inauspicious terrains. He did no investigation, and he called no witnesses who could have established the defendant's whereabouts at the time of the offence. This was crucial to counter the maliciously false accusations by his now co-defendant who seized upon the opportunity to testify against Stokes. In exchange for a life sentence, and another, who was given little or no jail time, they were eager to be the prosecution's star witnesses. They would do or say anything. One co-defendant was allowed unsupervised sexual liaisons with his wife in an upscale hotel. He was supplied with illegal drugs and other amenities readily available to pampered snitches. They both pled guilty well before trial, confessing their guilt well before trial, confessing their guilt to escape death - but they weren't sentenced until Stokes was found guilty. The trial was a farce. An alleged eye witness told the police that on the day of the murders he couldn't identify anyone, for how could he? They had on ski-masks, he told them, masks that covered their entire face - and it was impossible to proffer an accurate description as to the weight, height, or facial features. He couldn't even tell whether the robbers were black or white. His story changed once he got on the stand. Oh, yes that was him he swore. He was able to see his eyeballs through the two small holes in the black ski-masks. Yeah, he was positive in his identification of the defendant. He knew it had to be him - because of the two killers - Stokes, the defendant, was the "shortest one". This witness told the police three different stories of what occurred that day - and it was clear that the final version was meticulously tailored to fit the prosecution's twisted scheme. The state utilized unspeakable tactics in insuring a conviction - and forging signatures on statements inculpating the defendant was one of it's cruelest tricks imaginable. The prosecution's star witness, Donald Blackson, was cross-examined by defence attorney Malcolm Waldron about this egregious misconduct:
Waldron:
"Do you have Commonwealth's exhibit number 34 in front of you?"
Blackson:
"Yes"
Waldron:
"Did I ask you whether or not they were your signatures on pages 1, 2, 3, 4 and 5?"
Blackson:
"Yes"
Waldron:
"And what did you tell me about your signature?"
Blackson:
"That it didn't look like my handwriting."
Here, a prosecution witness admitted under oath that he hadn't even endorsed the statement accusing a man of being involved in a triple murder that inevitable sent him to death row. Then who did?, his pitifully inept attorney should have asked. It became clear that the evidence against the defendant was deliberately fabricated.
Waldron:
"Did I ask you whether you had a conversation with Mr. Stokes about the incident referred to in that statement?"
Blackson:
"Yes"
Waldron:
"About the things you said in that statement? And, did you tell me that, "I don't remember whether I talked to him?""
Blackson:
"That's what I told you, that I didn't remember. Yes"
Waldron:
"Now, you were asked here today if you remembered a conversation on March 11, 1982. Isn't it a fact that you don't know whether you had a conversation with the defendant?"
Blackson:
"Well, I went over my testimony, and from my testimony, it said that I had talked to the defendant on the day of the murders."
Waldron:
"Well, do you really remember that, to be true now?"
Blackson:
"No"
Any reasonable man or woman could deduce, from this portion of the trial transcripts - that this witness' testimony was not only patently manufactured, but perjurious. He was merely one player out of a sickening sequence of tainted witnesses for the prosecution - like Philadelphia homicide detective Robert Kane, who was under state and federal investigation for police corruption, and tampering with evidence. Detective Kane testified that he was the central figure at the scene of the crime, who collected, and preserved crucial physical evidence. Introduced positional photographs and body charts of the victims. He was allowed, (without any objections from his attorney) - to testify about the ballistic evidence concerning bullets that were in no way connected to the crime - though the jury was told they were. Kane swore under oath that his observations of the crime scene and the critical evidence he'd collected there undeniably established the defendant's guilt - but documentary proof, recorded in police log books, clearly contradicts this ridiculous assertion - because he was somewhere else at the time, and his presence at the crime scene would have been physically impossible.
Stokes was barely 19 years old - one of the youngest defendants to be sentenced to death in the state of Pennsylvania at the time. In a hellacious battle for his young life, the state was a formidable opponent - and without a competent attorney - it was no contest. There are no screaming crowds of supporters, no strict referees issuing stern warnings against the state's dirty and illegal tactics. Mr. Stokes needs your help. His appeals are nearly exhausted. This is his biggest fight. This is the last round.
Copyright © 1997 R. S. Lewis
