Barton, David and Barna, George. U-Turn: Restoring America to the Strength of its Roots. Frontline, 2014.
DeMar, Gary. America's Christian History. Eighth Edition. American Vision, Inc., 2007.
Lapin, Rabbi Daniel. America's Real War. Multnomah Publishers, 1998.
For the latest updates go to parkerhudson.com/blog. There you will find many posts on the Christian foundations of our nation; one is at this link. Please enjoy the Archives by Category and Tags.
Notes:
3
Words
Mike Beal wore a dark blue suit, white shirt and red tie. Tall and handsome with a bit of gray dusting his auburn hair, the prosecutor presented an imposing figure. He rose from his seat in the paneled courtroom. Looking purposefully at the jury members seated in their box, he strode toward the State's star witness.
Mary Alexander, in her mid-twenties, attractive, with chestnut brown hair, wore a stylish pale blue dress and a single strand of pearls.
Beal stood next to her, his hand on the witness box rail, his face visible to the jury. "Ms. Alexander, please state your full name and address for the record."
"Mary C. Alexander. 310 Cotter Lane." "And where do you work?"
"In Midtown, at Coles and Company. I'm an executive assistant."
"All right. Thank you. Now I'd like you to tell us, please, in your own words what happened to you and your baby almost ten months ago on the morning of October 19th."
Mary paused for a moment before speaking, all the while clasping her hands tightly in her lap.
"I...I left my office at 9:30 to go to a doctor's appointment- the doctor's office is near our office. I was walking up Tenth Street on the north side--on the sidewalk, I mean. When I got to
Fulmer, I waited for the light to change, and then I started into the crosswalk."
She hesitated, glancing from Beal to the judge, who was looking down benevolently from her slightly raised position next to the witness stand.
"What happened then?" the prosecutor encouraged. "Well, there was yelling from a car stopped across the intersection on Fulmer. I glanced that way and two men jumped out, raising their hands and yelling at each other."
"Do you see one of those men here in the courtroom this morning?"
"Yes. That's one of them. Mr. Sanchez."
"Let the record show that the witness is pointing to Mr.
Raymond Sanchez, the defendant."
Sanchez, seated at the defendant's table with his two court-- appointed attorneys, stared at her. He was wearing what appeared to be a recently purchased but ill-fitting gray suit and green tie.
Beal nodded for Mary to continue.
"They were yelling so loudly that everyone just sort of stopped and looked at them. The one on the passenger side suddenly ran across the intersection toward us. Just then the driver-Mr. Sanchez-started shooting at him with a gun--a pistol." Her hands increased their wringing motion. "I guess the passenger heard the first shot and tried to dodge, so he darted to the right and then to the left. He ran past me. But...but Mr.
Sanchez fired again, and the bullet hit me." "Where?"
"In the stomach." She touched the spot on her side. "I felt a sharp pain, and I saw blood. I turned back to the sidewalk, but I fell in the street. People were screaming and running. I think Mr. Sanchez fired a couple more times. It gets pretty blurry after that."
"All right," Beal said, in a soothing tone. "You're doing fine." He had glanced at the jury during her testimony and noticed the attention with which they were following her story. "What's the next thing you remember?"
"I know that an ambulance came. Lots of sirens. People were trying to help me. One man used his shirt to try to stop the bleeding. I guess I passed out, because the next thing I recall was being in the hospital bed."
"After the operation?"
"Yes. It must have been several hours later. There were bandages on the wound. I was still pretty woozy."
"And where was your baby?"
"She...she wasn't there." Mary looked down and appeared to be close to tears.
"What had happened to her?"
"They told me later that the bullet would have passed pretty cleanly through me, but because I was pregnant, it hit the baby's head and exploded."
There was silence in the court for a few moments. "And killed her?"
Mary nodded.
"I know this is difficult. We'll have expert testimony later, but did they say that they tried to save her?"
Tears were now streaming down Mary's cheeks. She gasped, "Yes."
"And at 25 weeks, your baby was probably viable, given all that medical science can do now." Beal handed her a handkerchief.
Mary just nodded, wiping her eyes.
"I'm sorry. No more questions. Thank you, Mary. Now I think Mr. Philips probably has some questions for you."
All eyes in the courtroom turned to the defendant's table.
After a few moments of silently studying notes on a legal pad, Jim Philips rose and nodded pleasantly to Mary Alexander. Younger and shorter than the prosecutor, Philips felt around in several pockets of his blue suit until he found a pen, made one short note on his pad, and then walked toward the witness. He stopped in the middle of the room, just in front of the judge.
"Good morning, Ms. Alexander. I'm sorry that you had to go through that again. You did a good job."
She nodded and looked at him.
"As you know, I'm Jim Philips. Ms. Tobin and I are representing Mr. Sanchez."
"Yes," she said.
"And he is on trial for manslaughter. For unintentionally killing your unborn baby. He's already been tried and found guilty for the other things he did that morning following the drug deal that went bad. None of that is in dispute. The only thing we're here to try him on today is causing the death of your baby.
Whatever the outcome of the trial, do you think that Mr. Sanchez meant harm to either you or your baby?"
"Objection," Prosecutor Beal said, rising from his chair. "Ms. Alexander's opinion on that matter is not relevant."
Philips answered, "Your honor, I believe that intent is a relevant factor in a manslaughter case, and I think that Ms.
Alexander's opinion is very relevant."
"I'll allow it," the judge responded. "Please answer Mr.
Philips' question."
"No, I guess not. Not ahead of time. But he shouldn't have shot at me!"
Philips continued. "Yes. I understand. By shooting at his former partner, whom he intended to harm but didn't, he injured you and fatally wounded your baby. He wanted to hurt his partner, not you. Yet he's here today because he accidentally hit you."
"Objection."
"Sustained. Mr. Philips, it will be the jury's decision, not yours, about whether this event was a reckless act of endangerment or an accident. The jury will disregard Mr. Philips' characterization. Where are you going with this line of questions, Mr. Philips?"
Facing the gray haired veteran on the bench, Philips deferred. "Sorry, your honor. I just wanted to establish that Mr. Sanchez did not intend to harm Ms. Alexander or her baby."
"Go on."
"Yes. Now, Ms. Alexander, on the morning in question, where did you say that you were going as you were walking on Tenth Street?"
"Objection. Where she was going is not relevant."
The judge looked at Beal. "I'll allow it. But," turning to Philips, "please make your point quickly." She then nodded to the witness and smiled.
Mary looked down, then up at Philips. "I was going to Doctor Slaton's office."
"And is Doctor Slaton your regular doctor, or was he your obstetrician?"
A long pause. "Neither."
"And so why were you going to Dr. Slaton's office that morning?"
"To...to have an abortion."
There was a stir in the courtroom. Prosecutor Beal looked impassively toward his witness. Several of the jurors glanced at each other. The judge eventually pounded her gavel. "Order.
Ladie
s and gentlemen, we must have order or we cannot proceed."
Jim Philips continued. "So you were on your way that morning to have your baby killed?"
"Objection!" "Sustained."
"But, your honor, what else would you call it? She was on the way to kill her baby when Mr. Sanchez unintentionally did the same thing."
"Abortion," the judge scowled at the young defense attorney. "She was on the way to have an abortion. Not to 'kill her baby.' "
"What difference does it make to the baby in the words that we use?"
"Mr. Philips, we're not here to try Ms. Alexander's legal right to an abortion. Do you have any more questions for her that are relevant to Mr. Sanchez's case?"
Philips turned back to the witness. "Why were you going to abort your daughter, Ms. Alexander?"
"Objection!"
"Mr. Philips, I've warned you not to follow that line. Do you want me to hold you in contempt of court?"
"But intent is relevant in a manslaughter case. We think it's relevant that if Mr. Sanchez had not fired his pistol that morning, Ms. Alexander' s baby would have been dead an hour later, anyway. That was Ms. Alexander' s intent. To kill her baby. The baby is dead either way, but the only difference is that in one case, the mother intended it and in the other case Mr. Sanchez did not. To lock Mr. Sanchez away for twenty years for doing what Ms. Alexander was on her way to do anyway seems preposterous."
"The jury will disregard everything that Mr. Philips just said." Turning to the defense attorney, the judge scowled. "Mr. Philips, if a doctor takes the life of a terminally ill patient or a prison guard murders an inmate on death row, it is still a crime. The eventual fate of the victim is not an issue."
"Yes, your honor, but in those analogies the person most like the doctor or the prison guard would be Ms. Alexander, because she intended to kill the victim. Mr. Sanchez did not."
"Mr. Philips, you'll stop this, or I'll declare a mistrial."
"All right." Turning to Mary again, he said. "Ms. Alexander, I'm sincerely sorry to ask you these questions, but since Mr.
Sanchez will spend most of the rest of his life in jail if he is found guilty, it's very important that we understand as much as possible."
She nodded but said nothing.
He looked down at his notes, took a couple of steps and looked at the jury. "Given where you were going at the time of the incident, had you been awake when you arrived at the hospital, would you have Okayed the doctors' work on your daughter, or would you have withheld permission to try to save her life?"
"Objection!"
"Your honor, I'm trying to establish that even after the incident, had Ms. Alexander been awake, her intent would have been for the baby not to live."
"One more question like that, and you're finished here. Do you understand?"
"But if not immediately relevant to the act itself, certainly these questions are important as to the extenuating circumstances surrounding the event."
"Mr. Philips, we're not here to discuss what might have happened. We're here to find out what actually did happen."
Jim Philips looked at the judge, who continued to scowl. He glanced down at his notes and over to his client. Then he looked back at Mary Alexander, nodded and smiled.
"Thank you, Ms. Alexander. No more questions."
Another full day of expert testimony and eyewitness accounts followed. Finally, the testimony ended, the prosecutor and defense attorney made their final summations, and the case went to the jury.
After four hours of deliberation, the foreman notified the judge that they had reached a verdict. Twenty minutes later, the court reconvened.
With everyone seated, the judge addressed the foreman, "Has the jury reached a verdict?"
He stood. "Yes your honor, we have." "All right, then, what say you?"
Lie #3: Abortion is not murder.
Truth: Abortion is the murder of a living human being.
http://www.frc.org/abortion
http://www.silentnomoreawareness.org/
http://www.str.org/quickthoughts/abortion-and-homicide#.VgsE5uxViko
http://www.whatyouknowmightnotbeso.com/
http://achristianmanifesto.com/pass-or-fail-the-test-of-humanity-because-you-cannot-unsee-the-video/
http://achristianmanifesto.com/do-black-lives-matter-even-in-the-womb/
Genesis 9:6
Luke 1: 15
Psalm 139
Luke 1: 41
For the latest updates go to parkerhudson.com/blog. There is a post on Abortion at this link. Please enjoy the Post Archives by Category and Tags.
Notes:
4
The Plane Trip
Diane Woods-well, that was her old African-American name. At age twenty-eight, she would soon be assuming a new name in a new country. Diane buckled herself into the window seat for the one-hour flight from London's Heathrow Airport to Frankfurt, Germany. It was a roundabout itinerary, but she and her husband had spent an hour online piecing together a string of flights so that she could use a frequent flier ticket. It was almost time for departure and she hoped there wouldn't be a passenger in the seat next to her. She wanted to stretch out and relax after her sleepless overnight flight from Washington. She held a pillow in her lap and was about to place it against the bulkhead when a small woman who might be her same age appeared in the aisle looking a little confused.
In broken English the woman, who had dark skin, but not as dark as Diane's, said, "Pardon, please. Is this Eighteen B?"
Diane lifted her magazine from the adjoining seat. "Yes. Yes it is."
"Oh, good. I think I am to sit here." She offered her ticket to Diane, who, somewhat startled, took it, noted the seat assignment, and nodded.
"Yes, this is it."
The woman placed her small bag on the floor between them and collapsed into the seat. She closed her eyes, and it appeared to Diane that her neighbor might be praying, since her lips moved but her eyes remained shut.
When the woman opened her eyes, Diane smiled and tried to make conversation. "A long flight?"
The woman returned her smile. "Not too long. The next after this is longer. To America! We missed our flight this morning, they put me on another one, and now I have to go to Frankfurt to connect. But I've just been praying for my husband."
"Where is he?"
"Still back home." She pointed behind her. "The officials wouldn't let him leave our country this morning. They said that his papers were not in order, even though we have worked on them for months. I didn't want to leave, but we talked, and he said it is better for me to go. He will stay behind and try to straighten it out. But I am concerned for him."
"Where are you from?" Diane asked, still smiling. The woman told her.
"Oh, goodness. That's where I'm going! Isn't that interesting? Maybe you can tell me about it."
Her companion pulled back a little. A questioning look appeared on her face. "You are an American? Why do you go there?"
Before Diane could answer, the captain made the usual takeoff announcement. She helped her new seatmate find the end of her seatbelt. "My husband found a job there as a chemical engineer for three years. We're moving away from American stereotypes and starting a new life."
"Oh, I see." But her seatmate looked confused.
The plane pushed back from the gate with a slight jerk.
Diane felt her heart race as she gripped the armrests. "Are you all right?" her new companion asked.
"Uh, yes. I just don't like flying."
"Oh." She smiled, her eyes bright. "This morning was my first time in an airplane."
They turned to face forward and sat in silence as the plane taxied out to the runway. Once they were airborne and the noise subsided, Diane released one hand, touched the woman's arm, smiled, and said, "My name is Diane."
Her companion nodded back. "My name is Aisha." "You are brave."
Aisha smiled and shook her head. "Not really." "Do you have any children?"
"No, not yet. We
hope to in America. You?"
Diane answered. "No. We've only been married two years.
We've both had careers. I hope to continue mine. I've been a paralegal, and of course, in our new country, I imagine I'll have to learn everything over again. Luckily my husband's engineering expertise is useful almost anywhere."
"Yes. Yes. My husband is also an engineer. We think that may be why he had trouble today. They don't want him to leave. I think it will be a big problem."
"I'm sure it will be okay. They can't detain him indefinitely if he has the correct papers."
Aisha looked at her quizzically.
"Does he have a job in America?" Diane asked.
Aisha shook her head. "No, but several families are sponsoring us, in Nashville. When we get to America, I'm sure that he will get a job. He is very smart."
"Why Nashville?"
"A church is helping us. You see, we are Christians now, and everyone at home started to argue with us and take from us. We lost our apartment. I lost my job as a teacher. They kept my husband at the plant but lowered his pay. Our families refused to see us. Someone told my husband that they will kill us."
Diane frowned. "That must be a tiny fundamentalist minority. I checked, and your country has religious freedom and tolerance."
Aisha looked at her again, then smiled and shook her head. "Yes, freedom if you are Muslim. Everyone else they despise. I know. I grew up Muslim."
"That's interesting. I grew up Christian in D.C. Or at least my parents were Christians. My husband and I recently converted to Islam. So I suppose you could say that we're trading places with you."
Aisha did not smile this time. "You converted from Christianity to Islam? Why?"
Diane shifted in her seat and tapped the armrest as she spoke. "Because we were tired of the hypocrisy of Christian America, always proclaiming equality, but only meaning it for white men, not for women or for African-Americans. My husband was turned away from a white church when he was in college. He says that Christianity is only for the ruling elite in America, and we got sick of it. He decided to worship God as a Muslim instead, and I joined him." She shrugged. "It's the same God. We just don't want all of the church crap that comes along with it in America."
Ten Lies and Ten Truths (Second Edition) Page 3
