Jan. 23, 2012

Last week I visited Avery-Mitchell Correctional Institution in Spruce Pine to talk to Junior Chandler, who soon will have served 25 years on charges strikingly similar to those in the Little Rascals case.

Junior, now 54, may well be the last still-imprisoned victim of the ritual-abuse contagion that swept the nation’s day cares in the ’80s and early ’90s.

I’ll be updating his case soon.

In Junior’s former life in the mountain town of Revere, he told me, he was close to his parents, his wife and two boys, his two brothers.

Early on, he and his brothers helped their uncle grow tobacco and corn. Before driving a van for the Madison County Day Care Center, he had worked for the Forest Service, the Department of Transportation and Southern Railroad. At least one job he gave up because it interfered with his softball tournaments and night fishing.

In prison, visits from his family became less frequent, and eventually his wife filed for divorce. “Two life sentences,” Junior says. “She couldn’t wait, you know.” And his sons couldn’t keep watching him aging away in his prison grays.

When his father died in 1997, he attended the funeral in handcuffs. He worries about his mother, who recently suffered a stroke.

He sleeps in a bunk bed in a dorm with 33 other inmates. His assigned janitorial job is cleaning meal trays. For relaxation he plays volleyball and horseshoes, watches Westerns on TV, reads a little. His only write-up was a scuffle not long after he arrived. “It’s learning to walk away and how to carry yourself,” he says.

Of course I was touched by Junior’s deep sadness and resignation. Sometimes I find it too easy to minimize the emotional havoc wrought by incarceration of the guilty – just imagine what it must be like for the innocent.

Nov. 4, 2015

“(Psychiatrist Roland) Summit praised the hysteria-induced news media hype and community gossip (about the McMartin Preschool case) as a public service: Without that type and extent of press coverage, the researchers and other professionals would not be able to gather this information and would be trapped by old myths about child sexual abuse.

“Summit complained that investigators were limiting the ability of parents to cope by discouraging them from meeting and discussing the case. The community’s priority, he explained, should be to support the children. Hundreds of children had escaped sexual assault, he claimed, because of the publicity about the McMartin case.”

– From “Childhood Sexual Abuse: A Reference Handbook” by Karen L. Kinnear (2007)

The “satanic ritual abuse” day-care myth had no more enthusiastic – and effective – pitchman than Roland Summit, who conjured up the Child Sexual Abuse Accommodation Syndrome, who spread the gospel as far as New Zealand and who never ever gave up on the existence of the McMartin tunnels.

Although Summit himself never made it to Edenton, his ill-conceived cosmology arrived full-blown.

Aug. 2, 2013

“The attorney for Dawn Wilson was the late Kirk Osborn, who also represented Reade Seligmann in the Duke Lacrosse Case.

“Osborn told me that after Wilson’s conviction was overturned, Nancy Lamb came to his office… ‘dressed to the nines’ and demanded that Wilson plead out to something. Wilson, who had turned down a plea offer before the first kangaroo trial that would have kept her from prison but would have made her turn state’s evidence – evidence that did not exist – told Lamb there was no way she would plead to anything.

“Kirk said that right before his eyes, Lamb turned into ‘the wicked witch of the West’ and stomped off. She ultimately was forced to drop all charges.

“It was the Little Rascals case that opened my eyes to what prosecutors do in these situations, how they lie, twist evidence, and coerce children. Lamb was the darling of the press when, in fact, she should have been excoriated for lying.”

– From a recollection by William L. Anderson (Oct. 26, 2010) of his correspondence with defense attorney Kirk Osborn

June 14, 2013

Among visitors to Edenton during the Little Rascals prosecution was Margaret Leong, a Chapel Hill poet who worked with preschool children. In her book “Magical Child Molestation Trials: Edenton’s Children Accuse” (1993) she recounted this instructive episode:

“Edenton’s citizens (are neither blind nor) deaf – a fact I learned my first morning there, when I slipped on a downtown sidewalk and turned my ankle. In no time at all, several kind people helped me into a taxi. That evening, a mile away in an Italian restaurant, at least three strangers came over to ask how my ankle was.

“Thus I must conclude that the observational skills of the good people of Edenton are on a par with folks in other small towns. And if not one Edentonian saw a hint of  even one sex crime out of (the alleged) 450, then perhaps no crimes were committed.”