LIFE PLUS TEN: INJUSTICE IN A SMALL TOWN
The Billy Crowder Story a/k/a The Tomato Patch Murder
by Jean Marie Ramirez
I never met Thurman Martin, but I’m glad he’s dead. He had lived in the podunk town of Ludowici, Georgia, where it was rumored that he had been consistently unfaithful to his ailing wife, was largely responsible for his son Dean’s incarceration and repeatedly cursed God before every meal. A reporter with the Atlanta Journal Constitution had once referred to him as “the old tyrant,” a woman whose children had grown up with Martin’s grandchildren labeled him “that Monster,” and a relative by marriage had continually called him “the S.O.B.”
He had a penchant for booze, was infamously violent-tempered and, at the time of his death, there were four warrants out for his arrest, the charges all filed by his biological daughter, Diana, claiming he had raped her.
It had been almost two months after Martin was reported missing before investigators discovered his body. He had been shot several times in the back of the head, wrapped in a mattress cover and plastic shower curtain and buried in his own front yard. The makeshift grave had been masked with tomato plants, an attempt to make the body length heap of freshly turned earth look like a garden. Almost immediately following the grisly discovery, as astonishing details surrounding the old man’s death were revealed, what had started out as a local missing persons case became nationally known as, “The Tomato Patch Murder.”
The outcome of the trial had been controversial, but neither the prosecution nor the defense disputed the facts. On May 18, 1997, Billy Crowder, along with his stepfather, John Stanton, shot and killed Billy’s maternal grandfather, Thurman Martin, as he slept. Jason Jordan, a friend of Billy’s from the neighboring town of Jesup, did not fire the weapon but was present when Martin was killed and willfully took part in the cover-up.
“When we got to the house we all three went in.” Billy’s confession to police read. “We went to my granddaddy’s bedroom and I shot my granddaddy in the head with a Ruger 10/22 rifle. I don’t know how many times? I then gave the gun to John Stanton and he shot him in the head also. Jason did not shoot him.”
The elderly Stanton and two teenage boys then wrapped Martin in a shower curtain, secured it with a nylon rope, carried his body to the front yard and buried him. In an effort to make it appear that Martin had decided to leave town, perhaps returning to his days as a truck driver, Billy began to gather some of his grandfather’s clothing and, in doing so, came across Martin’s wallet.
“I went back into the room to clean it up to look like he just left.” Billy had written in a letter to me, addressing his grandfather’s death. “I found his pants in the corner and as we was disposing of them came across his wallet. At that point, was the first time that money came to mind, when we found the wallet. We needed to pay some bills and buy food so I looked inside it and took out about $600.00…and paid [the] phone, light, gas and house payment."
It was this admission that prompted the State to charge Billy with armed robbery, in addition to the crimes of malice murder, hindering the apprehension of a criminal and possession of a firearm during the commission of a crime.
In an interview with Dateline NBC, Assistant District Attorney Tom Durden stated, “Billy Crowder is a killer, someone who does not mind, for whatever reason, taking another human being’s life.”
But as jurors heard first-hand accounts of what life had been like under Thurman Martin’s rule, the sensational Long County parricide case quickly began to take a disturbing turn. Though Billy had openly confessed to killing the family’s 64-year-old patriarch, the defense argued that the young man suffered from “battered person’s syndrome,” and that the severe trauma he had experienced from years of abuse left him believing that the only option he had to protect his family, as well as himself, was to kill the man who tortured them.
Billy, who had been raised by his grandparents from infancy, took the stand in his own defense.
“One time…[my granddaddy] beat me so bad on the back where you couldn’t even lay down on your backside it was so sore.” He testified. “He’d take the belt and just make you stand there and slash you. [H]e took and directly stabbed me with a screwdriver, just across my shoulder blade. It was a carburetor screwdriver.”
But Martin’s grandson was not the only one subjected to his violent behavior. Billy’s testimony detailed the abuse he had not only endured, but witnessed.
“I’ve seen [my granddaddy] take my grandma, slap her in the back of the head, knock her false teeth out. He’d hit her that hard. I’ve seen him knock her down to the floor, take his foot and kick her…in the ribs. She had numerous broke ribs because of him kicking her…”
Eleven people testified on Billy’s behalf, corroborating his allegations of physical, emotional and psychological abuse. Among them, neighbors claiming to have seen Martin savagely beat his grandson who, they maintained, never raised a hand to defend himself. Billy’s 17-year-old sister, Katie, testified that her grandfather had threatened to kill her with a butcher knife, repeatedly tried to rape her and told her that if she or Billy went to authorities, he would burn the house down with the two of them inside.
The prosecution, however, immediately began to question the legitimacy of the family’s harrowing claims. Longtime Sheriff Cecil Nobles testified that charges had never been filed against Martin prior to his death and, accordingly, there were no reports to substantiate the supposed abuse. But Martin’s family claimed that he was part of Long County’s “good ol’ boy” network, and that his connections with local law enforcement, including Sheriff Nobles, had been the reason why the abuse was continuously overlooked.
On July 23, 1998, after six hours of deliberations, jurors returned with their verdicts in the case of the State of Georgia vs. Crowder and Stanton. Jason Jordan, who was tried separately, had already been sentenced to life in prison, plus five years for his role in Martin’s death.
John Stanton, who was frequently exposed to Martin’s violent behavior and tried unsuccessfully to get help for his wife and two stepchildren, had been found guilty of malice murder, hindering the apprehension of a criminal and possession of a firearm during the commission of a crime. As a result, Judge Robert L. Russell, III sentenced him to life in prison, plus ten years.
Billy Crowder, who the jurors all agreed suffered from “battered person’s syndrome,” had been found guilty of voluntary manslaughter, hindering the apprehension of a criminal and possession of a firearm during the commission of a crime. For each of these convictions, Judge Russell sentenced him to five years in prison.
That left one final, and ultimately controversial, decision. Had Billy actually committed armed robbery by taking the money from his grandfather’s wallet? Several of the jurors acknowledged that they were confused as to why the charge existed, or why a lesser offense had not been included. They believed that, though Billy had admittedly used a rifle to kill Thurman Martin, he had not used a rifle to rob Thurman Martin. However, based on their interpretation of Georgia law, the jurors felt they had no choice but to find him guilty. The sentence? Life in prison.
Less than two weeks after their verdicts were read, outraged by Judge Russell’s decision, eight of the jurors filed a petition pleading with the court to reduce Billy’s sentence.
“We beg you to listen to our cry for justice.” The petition read. “[W]e all hoped Billy Crowder would serve a fair sentence. In our eyes life plus 10 was unfair. We had hoped Billy…would serve a sentence which would allow him to get psychiatric help. Therefore what life he has left could be as normal as possible. Though Billy Crowder did commit a crime, he is not a harsh criminal.”
Despite the unprecedented attempt, Judge Russell was not swayed.
Billy Edward Crowder - Georgia Department of Corrections identification number 0000977024 and my boyfriend of twelve months - is currently serving the tenth year of his life sentence at Telfair State Prison.
Recently, a conversation with one of the gentlemen who had been responsible for Billy’s prosecution proved unexpectedly inspiring. We spoke on the telephone for several minutes, talking over one another as we agreed that an injustice had occurred in the Long County courthouse all those years ago and, after his insistence that I stop calling him “Sir,” he told me if ever there was a cause worth championing, this was the one.
Indeed.
In August of 2007, www.billycrowder.com was launched as part of the on-going campaign to bring Billy home. From Arizona to Australia, Connecticut to Canada, we have received, and continue to receive, extensions of support reaffirming the contention that Billy’s life sentence is both excessive and unjust.
Efforts are now underway to find an attorney willing to assist in obtaining post-conviction relief for Billy on a pro-bono basis. Since the appeal filed on his behalf immediately following the trial was unsuccessful, Billy’s best, if not only, option at an early release is a writ of habeas corpus. This is a court order addressed to a prison official (or other custodian) ordering that a prisoner be brought before the court so that the court can determine whether that person is serving a lawful sentence or should be released from custody. Georgia is one of the forty-eight states that imposed a deadline on this option and, therefore, Billy’s writ must be filed before July 1, 2008 in order to be considered.
While many well-known organizations, such as the ACLU and the Southern Center for Human Rights, have made a significant impact regarding civil rights violations, their advocacy is generally geared toward injustices affecting a group, as opposed to one individual. Furthermore, we have yet to find a criminal attorney in the state of Georgia willing to file a writ on Billy’s behalf without charging a fee – costs that range from twenty-thousand to forty-five-thousand dollars.
At present, Billy has been incarcerated for over 3,300 days. If he does not file a writ of habeas corpus, or if the writ is filed and not successful, his first appearance before the parole board is in April of 2012, when he will be thirty-four years old. However, the Georgia State Board of Pardons and Paroles has publicly issued a statement asserting that parole for an inmate serving a life sentence is a “rare commodity.” Realistically, Billy Crowder could spend the rest of his life imprisoned by the same system that failed to protect him.
Watch for the next installment of this story in March, 2008.
