A Cry for Justice

By Daniel Cummings

The story of Daniel Cummings was highlighted and given national exposure 20 years ago on the Geraldo Rivera Show entitled “Spouses of Rape Victims... ” When the heinous crime of rape has been per¬petrated upon a man’s wife, and the culprit has been identified by the victim, and that identity made known to the agents of law enforcement, it is reasonably expected that justice will occur.
When the culprit has been positively identified as the rapist of the victim; and those agencies empowered with the authority to arrest the culprit and thereby mete out justice, consciously refuse to perform the duties they have been sworn to uphold, cite their own lack of confidence in the process of the justice system, as the reason they will not perform their sworn-duty; they have by their own inaction, aligned themselves with the rapist and closed the doors to even a resemblance of justice.
What does one do, when coming home from a hard day’s work, and finding that your wife has been brutally raped by someone you know? What would you do? What does one do when discovering that a knife and gun was used to force your wife into submission? What would you do? What would you do after thinking that you have done everything that the law dictates a law-abiding citizen to do, and all the right things that a traumatized man and wife could possibly endure by reporting the rape, only to get slapped in the face with endless and contrived humiliation? What would you do?
That night I could not sleep, all I could think about was the knife that was put to my wife’s throat, and the gun that was put to her head, and the bloodstains that were on her pants from vaginal hemorrhaging. What would you do? ... I knew that I had to do something.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Daniel Cummings
• Release date: Mar 28, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311325990

Daniel Cummings

My name is Daniel Cummings prisoner number AF-4891. I have been locked behind the walls of one of Pennsylvania’s most notorious prisons for over 40 years. I grew up in Jacksonville Florida, my childhood was that of a normal child up to the point of my mother and father’s separation. I am from a family of six sisters and I was my father’s only son. My father was a hard working man who instilled strong family values that I still carry with me today. He was very protective of my mother and (6) sisters. I can still hear and remember the sound of his voice hollering out to me as we were going off to school, “Son take care of your sisters.”After my mother and father’s separation, she struggled to raise seven children the best way that she could. She sent some of us to live with relatives, and some stayed with her. I was sent to live with relatives in Philadelphia, which is where I met my wife. My wife and our children are my life, and all the love and respect for women that my father instilled in me was then, and is still showered upon them, from my childhood, well into my adult years.I was taught to protect my family. My wife is a rape survivor. The night that my wife was drugged and brutally raped, I did not run out looking to find the man who raped her. I did all the things that a law-abiding, tax-paying citizen is supposed to do. I immediately called the Philadelphia Police Department and reported her rape. In the great city of Brotherly Love, I cried out for justice, but the doors of justice was slammed into my face, and I was left feeling like a hopeless voice crying out into the wilderness. Five decades later, I find myself still crying out for Justice.I have been locked behind these walls for over 40 years for doing what I thought was the right thing to do at that time to protect my wife. I felt that I had done all the right things by reporting her rape, but all we got from the Philadelphia Police Department was humiliation. That night I could not sleep, all I could think about was the humiliation we were going through.I could not think straight, my mind just would not stop thinking about the gun that was put to my wife’s head, and the bloodstains that were on her pants from vaginal hemorrhaging. I could not let go of those thoughts.I was crying, she was crying, and nobody wanted to hear us. The pain and grief that my wife was feeling, the terror and anguish that encompassed my household compelled me to action. I had to do something to protect my family from further harm. On August 23, 1972, I entered the home of the individual who raped my wife and I shot him to death. For a number of years, I felt that my actions of taking the life of the man who raped my wife was justified, my radical religious views at that time conditioned me to believe that my actions of defending and protecting my family was what any real man would do.However, through my many years of spiritual growth, I have discarded all notions that such extreme actions are justified. So where do I go from here. I will continue to pursue a commutation, and I will continue to reach out to the public for support, public pressure through letters and phone calls going directly to the governor’s office is what got me my last hearing. The more publicity my case receives, the more support I will get from the public and the more help I receive from the public will have an influence on the Pennsylvania Board of Pardons decision to allow my case to go on before the governor for a reduction of my life sentence to a sentence of life on parole. I need a strong social network following to get the job done.

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I would like to thank my co-author Lena Bates, my step-son Lynis, and my daughter Cecilia for encouraging me to write my autobiography. It was on one of our family visits when my son suggested with resolve in his voice and said, Dad I think that you should write a book. Write the book from your heart, and don’t hold anything back; say what you mean, and most of all mean what you say, this is your story, your experience, your journey, which affects our family even today, so dig deep and get the job done.

My co-author Lena Bates was 19 years old when we first met. From then until now, we have been inseparable. Our spiritual paths intertwined for a reason. there is a purpose for everything, and the both of us believe that through our continuous struggle that has endured our friendship, we both believe that justice will eventually be served in my situation which has been tragic for the victims family, and as well as my own family.

Lena co-represented my case to the Pennsylvania Pardons Board 20 years ago; her input was helpful in our winning my first public hearing. I always knew that there was something special about Lena, she always had a sense of modesty about her that was much different from the average 19 year old. My aunt Lizzie would reference a person like Lena as having a special gift. Today Lena is an ordained minister; she is my spokesperson and spiritual advisor. Additionally Lena, I want you to know that there is no words to express my gratitude for all that you have done for me. Thank you apostle Lena Bates.

I would also like to thank my ex-wife Hilda Cummings for her support. From day one, she has always encouraged me to never let an opportunity go by where I could have conveyed and communicated our struggle, and did not intelligently and diligently do so. I can still hear the echoing of her voice within my being, resounding the message, Danny that would be a shame, because you never realize the depth and understanding of people at any given moment. By presenting our reality to them, our plight and struggle has the power to enhance their civility and humanity. If no one knows about our situation, they can’t do anything about it.

She also made me promise that I would never allow myself to become discourage or fall victim to despair. I promised my wife that I would never allow this prison system to strip me of my dignity.

I would also like to thank all of my supporters who have been there for me over the past 40 years, and to thank also Geraldo Rivera for his continued appreciation for giving my case national exposure.

I would also want to thank my critics, for I have grown from your criticism, especially the young lady counselor who sat at my institutional commutation staffing, and arrogantly asked, Mr. Cummings, you think you are a victim? My answer to you young lady, is Yes! I am also a victim. The night that my wife was viciously raped, we as a married couple, and family with children, became victims, not just because of the rape, but because of the way that we were treated by the Philadelphia Police Department over 40 years ago.

INTRODUCTION - A Spiritual Journey

My birth name is Daniel Cummings, given to me by my father. My nickname is Peta, given to me by my grandfather. My attribute Ali, was given to me by my spiritual father.

Who am I? At this moment, in this place and time? I am Daniel Cummings, a spiritual being locked behind the walls of Graterford prison. I have been locked behind these walls for over 40 years.

I am here for committing a crime that I thought was justified when I could find no other recourse for justice. I am doing a natural life sentence for taking the life of the man who raped my wife. I grew up in a society with strong moral and spiritual beliefs.

Today I can clearly hear my father’s voice, Son, always protect your family. I can also hear my spiritual father’s voice, Son remove the filth that destroyed her dignity. Who am I? I am Ali, I am guided by my spiritual father. Thus, the beginning of my journey.

Was it right for this man to rape my wife? Was it right for me to take his life? What is right, what is wrong? Questions I have asked myself as I continue this journey. Over the years, I have lost my mother, my father, my only biological son, and all but one of my siblings.

Who am I? Why am I here at this place, at this moment in time? I am still trying to make sense of it all. I have traveled all of the spiritual paths. I could not find what I was searching for in Christianity. So, I turned to Islam, but still could not find the peace of mind that I was searching for. Then one Saturday evening, suddenly, I began to experience a strong pull drawing me into the activities department, where there was a gathering of students from State College.

At that time, I was taking some college classes, so I thought this was another educational seminar. Upon entering the room, I found my way to the front circle where there was a picture of this brown-skinned man with an orange cap on, and a bright red dot in the middle of his forehead. I sat down next to the student leading the group and began to chant the mantra that was echoing throughout the room. Om Namah Shivaya Om Namah Shivaya. As I continue the chant, my body began to slowly sway in a way that I had never experienced before. Then suddenly a very relaxing, peaceful sensation enveloped my complete being.

I would later learn from my spiritual teacher that this experience comes from the Mantra’s power to turn one inward: It has the power to calm the mind so that the disciple can focus on God.

At that moment, in that place, in this lifetime, I had become one with the essence of all creation. through the quietness of meditation. I found the key to the kingdom. (Psalms 46:10) Be still, and know that I am God. In all thy ways acknowledge Him and He shall direct thy path. (Proverbs 3:6) The kingdom of God is within you (Luke 17:21)

The master teacher with keys to all the mansions. Christ Jesus says, Ask and it shall be given to you, seek and you shall find: knock, and it shall be opened unto you. (Matthew 7:7).

In the beginning was the Word, and the word was with God’ and the word was God." (St. John 1:1)

Thank you heavenly Father for the gift of your word through the earthly bodies of Sister Iyanla Vanzant, Siddha Yoga meditation teachers, Swami Muktananda, Gurumayi Chidvilasananda. Grace is the divine will that intends to dissolve concealment. It allows liberation and overcomes suffering. The struggle is over. I have found peace with my destiny.

I have always been much better at writing my feelings, than verbally expressing them. I remember my wife saying to me, Honey whenever an opportunity presents itself to tell someone about our struggle speak up, don’t worry about how your articulation comes across, as long as it is the truth, it will have an effect on the right people.

I seized that moment with one of the professors who came in from Villanova to teach a class in English Enlightment. The professor gave me an A on the following essay, which I will use as the introduction to my autobiography.

When the state of these United States of America established laws by which a humane society would be governed, they did so with a two-fold purpose. To protect the freedom and property of individual citizens, and relieve its citizenry of the responsibility of meting out retributive justice.

The law of this land decrees that when a person commits a crime he must be punished. Many people are - and many people are not.

What determines if you are punished and to what extent you are punished, is who you are; commonly known as a double standard of justice.

A few months ago, 60 Minutes highlighted a problem with kidnapping, rape, and prostitution in Asia. Bangladeshi and Burmese women were kidnapped, raped and forced into prostitution in Pakistan brothels.

I must say that this is definitely a problem that needs to be addressed and kept in the public eye. However, this issue should not be prejudiced by restricting it to Pakistan. it is a well known fact that not so long ago the same problem took place in Bosnia and in fact, was depicted on a much larger scale, rape camps were found by the United Nations intelligence and peace keeping forces.

The United States is quick to point the Finger of Shame at other nations regarding this problem; we cannot afford to overlook the fact that we have a major problem with Rape in our own country.

My reason for highlighting this subject and using it as an essay is because it hits close to home. I am sure that by now you are wondering where I am going with this essay, so before I go any further, I want to first thank you for coming into this God forsaken place to teach us, Society’s so-called scum, murders, rapist, and thieves something about human behavior.

Such teaching from a college perspective is a first for me, and I assure you that I enjoyed every class. Professor, I know that the focus of my essay is supposed to be on Apollonian, Dionysian models of human behavior, but I hope you don’t mind that I am using this opportunity to express some of my personal problems with hopes that you as a college professor and admitted feminist might lend a sympathetic ear in support of my plight. As I said, I know that this is not related to the subject you taught and assigned to us, but in a way it is, because my situation deals with human behavior and a double standard of justice for minorities within our criminal justice system, so if you will bear with me, I would like to tell you something about our society and the crime of rape.

When the heinous crime of rape has been perpetrated upon a man’s wife, and the culprit has been identified by the victims, and that identity made known to the agents, or officers of law enforcement, it is reasonably expected that justice will occur.

When the culprit has been positively identified as the rapist, and harm-doer of the victim, and those agents empowered with the authority to arrest the culprit and thereby mete out justice, refuse to perform the duty they have been duty sworn to uphold and cite their own lack of confidence in the processes of the judicial system as the reason they will not perform their sworn-duty, they have by their own inaction, aligned themselves with the rapist, and closed the doors of justice.

Once the doors of justice has been slammed into the face of a state citizenry, there is no recourse for a reasonable man, who must day and night hear the cries of his wife, as she pleas for this gross injustice this unwanted violation of her person to be rectified.

A husband is not only a laborer, but he is the primary protector of his household, thus the action taken upon the perpetrator of this heinous crime was not, is not, murder. Rather, it was what any reasonable man in human society would do. That is to protect his wife, protect his family and household.

What does one do, when coming home from a hard day’s work, and finding out that your wife has been brutally raped by someone you know. What would you do? What does one do when finding out that a knife and a gun was used to force your wife into submission?

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

INTRODUCTION - A Spiritual Journey

CHAPTER 1 – Early Years in Jacksonville, Florida

CHAPTER 2 – Boy! Take Care of Your Sisters

Chapter 3 - Boxing Lessons And Pigeon Stew

CHAPTER 4 – Blind Infatuations

CHAPTER 5 – Greyhound Bound for Philadelphia

CHAPTER 6 – Two Wanna Be Pimps

CHAPTER 7 - Reds, the Dancer

CHAPTER 8 – Two Peas in a Pod

CHAPTER 9 – The Drama Must End 8

CHAPTER 10 – Uncle Bob Meets the Dancer

CHAPTER 11 - Remove the Filth that Destroyed Her Dignity

CHAPTER 12 - The Point Of No Return

CHAPTER 13 – Back in my Dad’s Embrace 1

CHAPTER 14 – The Compassionate Deputy Sheriff 1

CHAPTER 15 – The Trial

CHAPTER 16 – Defense/Prosecution summation 1

CHAPTER 17 - The Verdict

CHAPTER 18 – A Fork in the Road

CHAPTER 19 – The Geraldo Show

CHAPTER 20 – Confessions/Infidelities

PHOTOGRAPHS

CHAPTER 21 – A Cry for Justice

CHAPTER 22 – Subtle Pockets of Racism

CHAPTER 23 – The Victim – Now Survivor

APPENDIX

About The Author

CHAPTER 1 – Early Years in Jacksonville, Florida

Mama! Mama! Daddy’s here! awakening to the sound of my sisters voices, hollering like wild hyenas. That’s mama’s favorite word when all six of my sisters are talking at the same time. Please stop that hollering; you girls sound like a bunch of wild hyenas.

I slowly roll over, and smile to myself because I know that today will be a special fun filled day. My dad drives over to get me every weekend. Sometimes he takes all of us shopping or to the fair if one is in town.

I can smell the aroma of mama’s bacon, but I am still playing like I am sleeping. I want my dad to wake me up the way that he always does. I hear his voice and continued questioning in a playful but strong manner, Where is that boy of mine?

My sisters holler, He is still sleeping, daddy.

The bright early morning sunlight shines through as he opens my door. Boy, Daddy said, Get your butt out of that bed if you plan on going with me.

I slowly rolled out of bed stretching my arms, yawning like I’m just waking up.

And make sure you brush your teeth stinky breath," he yells.

We both smile as he gives me a big hug and a kiss.

Peta! Mom’s calling me again.

Peta is my nickname given to me by granddaddy. Mom said he gave me that name because I never wanted to wear any clothes, and I was always running around the house butt-naked with my lil’ peter dangling, so he started calling me Peta.

Okay mama, I’m coming, I said, as I put my dungarees on and run for the bathroom. hoping that none of my sisters are in there.

My sisters are at the table with daddy, and my older sisters are helping mama cook breakfast. I can hear all of my sisters trying to talk at the same time.

Daddy, are you taking all of us with you today?

Daddy, did mama show you my report card?

Daddy, I got all A’s and B’s.

Daddy, my birthday is coming up?

Mom is right they do sound like a bunch of wild hyenas.

After breakfast, mama and daddy did what they always do every time he comes over to get me. He would say, Boy, you go outside and play for awhile.

They think that we don’t know what’s going on, but we do. Momma and daddy are doing it.

After some time daddy hollers out to us again. Boy! Are you ready to go?

Yea, daddy. I’m waiting on you. I answered.

Daddy would give mom a kiss and hugs and kisses my sisters then we are out the door.

I always wondered why Daddy was not living with us anymore. He would only come home on weekends

Daddy, why don’t you live with us anymore, I asked.

What you mean boy, I’m here every weekend.

Yeah daddy, but you don’t live with us anymore, I said.

Well son, we will talk about it sometime, but not now, he replied!

Okay dad, I answered quickly focusing my mind on something else and jumped into his big Lincoln.

Daddy, I will be 14 years old real soon. What are you getting me for my birthday?

Boy, birthdays are special; don’t you want it to be a surprise.

Okay daddy.

Time passes quickly with my dad. While driving up to Aunt Lizzie and Uncle Charles home, my dad gets out and I jump over to the driver’s seat. I always feel much older when I’m with my dad. sure will be glad when I’m old enough to drive.

Daddy rings the doorbell and hollers through the screen door, Liz it’s me, is Charles in?

Hey Dan! No! Charlie’s not here. Come on in. You got lil Dan Junior with you? You better come on in here and let me see that boy. Look at him, gimme a hug boy. you look just like your daddy, just look at you all grown up. how old are you now? Feeling like a man? She asked.

I quickly respond, I’ll soon be 15 Aunt Lizzie.

Dad jumps in, Stop that lying boy you haven’t turned 14 yet; he’ll be 14 next year Liz, my father said.

Yeah dad, but I feel like a man now, I replied.

I need to talk to my dad about some things that have been happening to me since getting older.

You come on in the kitchen and sit down. let me fix you something to eat, said Aunt Lizzie, I know that you like my butter biscuits." Aunt Lizzie has always been a church going lady. All she does is cook, work, attends church, and teach Sunday school. I don’t know how she and my Uncle Charles ever got together. All he does is drink wine, gets drunk and falls out somewhere.

I guess there is some truth to the saying opposites attract.

Aunt Lizzie gives daddy a paper towel and a fried chicken leg. You want a plate Dan Jr.? Here, she said Let me fix a plate for you. Aunt Lizzie loads my plate up with collard greens, rice, and two big chicken legs.

Dad and Aunt Lizzie are talking about my Uncle Charles’ drinking problem. I remember mama telling my older sister about the time that daddy had to kick Uncle Charles behind because he was drunk and beating Aunt Lizzie. My sister said that Uncle Charles never hit her again after that butt whipping from his own brother.

Dad moves from the table… Well, we better get going Liz. I just wanted to check on you. and see how things are going. He continued.

Okay Dan, I really do appreciate you coming by. did you enjoy the food Dan Jr. she asked.

Yes Aunt Lizzie, and thank you. I replied.

Daddy, when do you think I will be ready to drive?

Soon boy, but not now, answered my father.

I jump into the car and we are off to wherever. I don’t care where it is. I just love being with my daddy.

I mention to him that I need to talk to him about something. I explain to him that sometimes I have dreams and when I wake up, all this stuff is in my shorts, and sometimes it’s on mama’s sheets.

My dad starts smiling, and said that he meant to say something to me about what was going on. Your mama told me about it.

She told you dad?

Yeah son, she told me all about the stains on her sheets. I had planned to talk to you last week, but it slipped my mind.

My dad drove into the parking lot hear the liquor store, and bought a six pack of Budweiser beer. I listened closely to what my father had to say while he drank his beer and explained everything that I needed to know about adolescence.

I told my dad about all of my little girlfriends, and the things that we did or thought we were doing, but I had never had sex. A couple weeks later, I had sex with a real grown woman, and until this day, I still believe that my dad set the whole thing up for me.

After our man-to-man talk, my dad drove down to Ashley Street. A few of his buddies who worked the docks with him, yelled, Hey Dan! We see you got lil’ Dan with you today. that boy look just like you. lil Dan and Big Dan.

My dad is smiling, Yeah, that’s my boy, he said in a manner that expressed his joy.

My dad talked with them for a long time, and one tall light-skinned man kept looking over at me. When dad came back to the car, he asked me if I wanted a weekend job delivering the Florida Star and the Sunday Times Union Paper.

I replied, Yeah dad, I want it. The next week, I had a weekend job selling and delivering newspapers up and down Ashley Street.