Showing posts with label Brooding Cynyx Commentary. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Brooding Cynyx Commentary. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 14, 2018

NEW YORK STATE PAROLE BOARD DELIVERS A KICK TO THE BALLS OF THE NYPD


THREE TIME COP KILLER TO WALK FREE

Officers Piagentini and Waverly are forever Honored, Remembered, and

Respected for their Service and Sacrifice



TAGS: OFFICERS PIAGENTINI AND WAVERLY ASSASSINATED, BLACK PANTHER MURDERERS,
HERMAN BELL PAROLED, THE “WAR YEARS”, 32ND PRECINCT, RACIAL STRIFE,
OFFICERS AMBUSHED – MURDERED IN COLD BLOOD, SPRING 3100



(Wednesday March 14, 2018, 32nd Precinct, 250 West 135th St.) He has an official website.  He has earned degrees, written all sorts of doggerel, and radical tripe.  He has the support of some ill-informed, arrogant Hollywood backers who have adopted his plight as their cause celebre.  He has allegedly spent the last 45 years living with an unblemished record.  On May 21, 1971 he ambushed two NYPD Officers with a bogus 911 call and murdered them in cold blood.  One of the young Officers, Waverly Jones, died immediately after being shot.  The other Officer, Joseph Piagentini the father of two young girls plead for his life.  Herman Bell tortured the mortally wounded Officer shooting him 22 times delivering the final rounds from Joseph Piagentini’s own gun.  He was an active member of the Black Liberation Army, a violent radical group birthed during the racial strife of the late 1960’s. Bell, until very recently, had never expressed any remorse for his role as an executioner.  Quite the contrary as is evidenced by some of his prison writings. And now, perhaps as early as the end of the month, Herman Bell, now 70, will walk out of the Shawangunk Correctional Facility in Wallkill a free man. To label this act a travesty of justice is a gross understatement. That the New York State Parole Board has granted this Cop killer his freedom is an insult to all who are and have ever served in the NYPD and Law Enforcement writ large.

There are many parties to this travesty, many groups and individuals who have worked over the years to recast Bell as someone he is not – a “changed man”.  He only admitted to having some small degree of remorse before his parole hearing in 2016 when he calculated that doing so might be advantageous to his cause.  The fact of the matter is that for virtually his entire prison sentence he enjoyed some notoriety in the twisted subculture among incarcerated convicts, precisely because he was a “Cop killer”.  His street reputation and Black Liberation Army (BLA) credentials afforded him a comfortable life in the various facilities where he served his time. Bell saw himself as a “political prisoner”, an activist and “a tireless soldier in the fight for justice”.  He has never disavowed his allegiance to the BLA and the Black Panthers.

Speaking earlier this morning with an old acquaintance, a retired Correction Officer who had served many years in a penitentiary where Bell was housed recalled some of his observations from over a dozen years ago.  Asking to be referred to only by his first name, Matt, he recounted that, “Bell back in those days had never lost his nigger swagger…you know that kinda hitch in the step strut that all the niggers used to have”.  Matt continued, “He (Bell) enjoyed something of a charmed life inside because of his status as an “OG” -an Original Gangsta, because he was “Old School”, and most definitely because he was a Cop killer.  The younger convicts treated him like royalty and Bell always had a smirk on his face when I interacted with him or any CO spoke with him.  It was a condescending smirk if that can be said but...you know what I mean.  It is a sad day for so many knowing this fuck who participated in the murder of 3 Police Officers will soon be out”.

The world has moved on, times have changed since the “War Years” in large cities across the country infected by virulent racial strife, open warfare against Law Enforcement Officers, and the cultural and societal upheaval that it may be difficult for younger people to understand.  But, we remember; we, of a certain age, remember all too vividly those days.  We remember at odd times and when we each make a private pilgrimage to the NYPD Memorial Wall in Battery Park.  We, NYPD has a historic memory and an institutional memory.  There is an unbroken cord that runs all the way back to 1900, to 3100 Spring Street, that binds all the men and women who have ever served and serve to this day. We are bound in duty and honor; bound by the sacrifices of service, the fact that we are indeed all Brothers and Sisters serving for a greater good but also giving our utmost for those we work with.  Our loyalty is neither blind nor blinding. 

When we stand in front of that marble wall and trace our fingers over the engraved names we are most familiar with and those whose stories have been passed down by our seniors when we were just out of the Academy and beyond, we feel the connection and know full well the meaning of “But for the Grace of God there go I”.  Ours can be a brutal business; ours is often a risky endeavor.  But it is what each of us has chosen and with our choice comes the obligations, powerful obligations to the NYPD as a whole and those we serve with and those we seek to protect.

Yes, Herman Bell will walk out of prison a free man, allegedly a “changed” man deemed so by the NY State Parole Board to be “no longer a threat to society”.  How does the Parole Board make such a determination, how can they act with any degree of certainty?  How does a panel composed of politically appointed flackies and hacks make this kind of decision?  Are they clairvoyant, do they possess the uncanny ability to see inside a murders mind and soul?  No, it’s all a crap shoot, and they hope for the best.

Bell’s family, for what it is 40 years hence can celebrate his homecoming.  He can return to his peers as a hero having survived incarceration. Members of the Waverly Family may have forgiven Bell; for the record, none of the Piagentini Family has done so.  To them and all of NYPD this decision stands as an insult.  Those of us remaining who remember those dark days and the atrocities committed by Herman Bell can only hope he suffers a long, protracted painful fatal disease. Divine retribution, Celestial justice is our only desire.



Updated Links











Copyright The Brooding Cynyx 2018 © All Rights Reserved

Copyright Brooding Cynyc 2018 © All Rights Reserved









Sunday, September 11, 2016

MOURNING DEATHS; CELEBRATING LIVES



OUR CITY, OUR TRAGEDY, AND OUR SPIRIT
STRENGTHENED




(Sunday September 11, 2016 Battery Park) There are tugboats plying their trade out in the harbor tonight, or more accurately, this small hour of the early morning.  Green and red lights fore and aft drift slowly by in the darkness marking their  progress.  Some are pushing barges from up state, others assisting the huge ocean-going freighters and tankers in docking along Staten Island and Port Elizabeth.  Funny how sounds travel; distinct sounds like the wail of a tug’s foghorn or the two-toned whistle of an LIRR local heading east.  In the background typically not registered in the ears of a native hums the din of an early Sunday morning; the omnipresent sirens in the night, the low grade snarl of 8.5 million people plus going about their business and pleasure on what began on Saturday night.

This perspective at Battery Park is as old as this island itself.  Adjacent to the Park is Battery Park City; a manmade 18 acres of high rise luxury housing, condos, and co-ops built on the very same soil that was removed from the site that ultimately became the “bathtub” foundation of the Twin Towers known by all as the World Trade Center.  It had been a “win-win” situation; NYC would have the tallest twin towers in the world and the earth removed to make them possible added 18 acres to the southwest front of Manhattan.

To the immediate west lights from New Jersey seem to twinkle while the views over each shoulder never cease to amaze.  This is a City, Our City, of magnificent skyscraping structures and at night a light show like no other. Our rivers and harbor are bejeweled by powerful yet elegant spans that serve as some of the major arteries to our City’ physiology. In the small hours of the morning the George Washington and Verrazano Narrows Bridges hang like enormous sets of Christmas lights seemingly floating in the dark. Its beauty is subtle and likely lost on tourists but for those of us who grew up in the “outer” Boroughs; those of us who measured the progress of the Twin Towers as those mighty structures were topped out from The Bronx, Brooklyn, Queens, Staten Island and much of the Metropolitan area, in the time of that incredible development upwards, Our Town remains an intriguing nexus of light and energy; a worldwide international City that we are fortunate to be able to call home.

Today, on this particular Sunday morning we still see the void, we feel the absence of our proud WTC and we recall the events from this date 15 years ago.  Yes, there is a magnificent structure occupying a place adjacent to the same footprints of our old Towers and it is a grand sight to see.  But it is a replacement, it will always be a replacement, the “what came after” soaring single shard of steel, glass, immensely fortified concrete and light erected since our Towers were attacked and toppled by acts of evil that still make our blood boil.  But Manhattan, New York City, could not tolerate nor accept the void left after 9-11-01 for too long.  It was imperative on so many levels to rebuild, not duplicates nor replicas of what had stood; but some other bold soaring edifice determined to stand as proof positive that we’d not be cowed. 

In a few hours’ people will begin to assemble just a few blocks from here.  The Twin Memorial Pools etched with the names of our deceased, all those who perished in our Towers 15 years ago will be the focal points for the ceremonial Remembrance and Memorial service.  There will be the now routine rituals commenced and observed; the same displays of Sacrament and Sanctity that have come to define this date in our City’s history and so many of our personal lives. Probably, it will always be this way on this day as well it should be. 

There are times and places in our City that can make us feel dwarfed by the landscape.  We are, after all, the most densely populated 326 square miles in the United States that just about 9 million diverse and disparate people call home.  We can walk through our famous, infamous and nondescript avenues and streets, made small by the soaring buildings as well as the five-story walk-ups that comprise the rich neighborhood topology of the “City that never sleeps” cognizant that we live in the literal and virtual center of the universe as we understand such a dimension. And, as such, from a distance, the rest of the country and world bore witness to our greatest moments of terror and triumph, of sacrifice and salvation; of tragic, inexplicable death ameliorated by selfless sacrifice, virtue and valor.

Turning away from the inky night time river walking north towards what is truly “Hallowed Ground”, one cannot but ponder over the vicissitudes of life; the circumstance and happenstance that are carried along on small gusts of unknown winds. The very nature of our mortality, the “human condition” hang in the background, the sub- and unconscious and, if we permit it entry to our consciousness, we come face to face with that as a linear border, the virtual chronology of our lives thus far.

One of our most problematic conditions is the irrefutability of randomness in all our lives; it is randomness that we most often seek to control by planning, saving money, all the activities that are predicated on a continuing supply of tomorrows.  Certain scientists contend that order can emerge from chaos; that complex systems of every type are actually by their very nature machinating towards equilibrium.  The Law of Thermodynamics is the final arbiter in this particular equation and will remain so until their veracity is proven otherwise.

For now, the fact that dawn will break over the eastern horizon in a matter of hours seems a sure bet.  It likely will.  The uncertainty is will we all be able to see it, to experience another day.  Among all the why’s and what-ifs that still smolder in some hearts about the shear callous uncertainty of that sunny Tuesday morning exactly 15 years ago today, today will always be a time to stop, become still, catch your breath, and realize the concave fragility juxtaposed with the convex resilience of life that ought never be taken for granted or squandered.  Yes, these are hard concepts to hold close to the bone as we go about the routines of daily life.  But we are neurologically and emotionally wired to keep randomness and chaos at bay.


We offer our sincerest prayers for all the deceased, their families and friends as we honor them in a formal regimented manner that has become an annual rite of passage.  From the Roman Catholic catechism regarding Extreme Unction it is written:

"Is anyone among you sick? He should summon the presbyters of the church, and they should pray over him and anoint [him] with oil in the name of the Lord, and the prayer of faith will save the sick person, and the Lord will raise him up. If he has committed any sins he will be forgiven."

James 5:14-16


Copyright The Brooding Cynyx 2016 © All Rights Reserved

Copyright Brooding Cynyc 2016 © All Rights Reserved