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september / october 2004:

Truth, Justice, and ed kramer
Arrested for a crime he claims he didn't commit, Edward Kramer has been waiting for his day in court for more than four years. In the meantime, conspiracies have evolved: Was he set up by enemies he made in the seedy underworld of science fiction conventions? Was he the victim of virulent anti-Semitism? And why has it taken so long for his case to go to trial? The twisted tale of a man and the life he now leads.
by Benyamin Cohen

Editor's note: This article first appeared in the fall of 2004.

Edward Kramer is sitting in his one-bedroom home. These days it's about all the 43 year old does. Arrested in August 2000 on accusations of child molestation, Kramer is on house arrest and has been waiting for his trial for more than four years.

Kramer's story does not follow a simple path. It takes detours into complex and murky territory. Kramer claims anti- Semitism, saying he was beaten up for being Jewish during his stay at the Gwinnett County Detention Center. Some even claim the judge overseeing his case is a Messianic Jew and could not be partial in judging Kramer, who has become a more devout Jew since his arrest.

He claims the jail did not give him necessary medical attention; he has severe neurological and spine damage and can barely move his neck. Some claim conspiracy. Kramer is the founder of Dragon*Con, a world-renowned sci-fi convention which attracts more than 25,000 people to Atlanta each year. Some in the sci-fi community had personal vendettas against Kramer, were jealous of his success, and wanted to see his downfall.

And, perhaps most important, some claim the evidence against him has so many holes in it that it uncovers possible corruption in the Gwinnett judicial system. After all, his arrest happened more than four years ago and, to this day, he has yet to go to trial.

Surprisingly, months of research not only confirms much of what Kramer and his supporters claim but it's not even the whole story.

It's a bright Tuesday in July 2004, primary election day, and Kramer is allowed to leave his home to cast his vote for the local elections. It's ironic. Shackled to his home by an electronic anklet, Kramer is going to take part in the judicial process, the very same system that has led to his current confinement.

It's shortly after 9 AM at the B.B. Harris Elementary School in the heart of Duluth and the voters have begun to trickle in. Whites, Blacks, Asians - all calling Gwinnett County home. Several "Bush/Cheney 04" bumper stickers reveal a Republican bias in the district. In fact, in the 2000 election, President Bush received 63% of the vote in Gwinnett.

A dark grey Chrysler Town and Country pulls up and parks in an empty spot. The door opens and, quite dramatically, a black cane with a silver handle peeks its way out of the car. It's followed by a foot and slowly a body emerges. It's Edward Kramer.

To those who have not met him before, he's an imposing figure. Part Jerry Garcia, part Paul Bunyan, Kramer is a large man. A bushy black beard and a long ponytail tied in the back with a leather strap punctuate his frame. Wearing a dark suit and a novelty dreidel tie, he's clearly overdressed for the occasion. In a sense, the suit allows him to recoup some sense of self-respect, to feel important as he exercises the only right he has left.

The years in home confinement have not bode well for the already frail man. His eyes, only partially open, are dark and weathered. Unable to exercise, he walks slowly, although he still has a slight swagger in his step.

This is a far cry from his life prior to his arrest four years ago. With a Master's Degree in Public Health from Emory University, Kramer served on Mayor Andrew Young's task force on domestic violence and worked as a technology and health consultant for the Metropolitan Regional Educational Service Agency.

As well, he worked with broken families and served as a mentor to dozens of troubled teenagers. "While my father was in prison on drug charges, Ed was somewhat of a surrogate father to me," says George Burgamy, an Emory alumnus now in his 20s.

But it was these types of relationships that, Kramer's friends agree, may have led people to think he was guilty. "He's put himself in a situation where questions could arise," says David Robinson, who also mentored teenagers with Kramer. "All it takes is someone to point a finger and our lives will come to a screeching halt and yet we do it because we have to, because somebody should."

To many children, Kramer was like Harry Potter's Hagrid, a larger-than-life adult in whom they could confide. It's a fitting reference since he has made a name for himself in the sci-fi/fantasy literary world. It's as if, in essence, he has become one of his own characters - a tortured soul on a mythical quest of good vs. evil.

That quest began unexpectedly for Kramer on Thursday, August 24, 2000. Kramer had been dating a woman with three sons ages 12, 13, and 15. The father of the younger two, a military intelligence officer, was seeking custody and had the mother investigated by the Department of Family and Children's Services (DFCS).

An anonymous call was placed to the DFCS office, alleging abuse and the boys were interrogated by Gwinnett police at their school. At first, the children denied anything had happened. Still certain that some wrongdoing had indeed occurred, the investigator, according to court testimony, then went to speak with the boys' mother. The investigator informed her of the situation and asked her to speak with the boys. That evening, she spoke with her sons and later informed the investigator that "something indeed had taken place" with Kramer. The next day, the police called Kramer and asked him to come down to the station. It would be the last time Kramer would go anywhere as a free man.

He was arrested on the spot. From the police station, Kramer was sent directly to the Gwinnett County Detention Center (GCDC) to await trial.

By almost all accounts, the GCDC is not a pleasant place to await trial. The jail is grossly overcrowded. According to an article in the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, it had been designed to hold 780 prisoners, but at the moment Kramer arrived it was housing about 1,500. Half of the inmates were forced to sleep on the floor.

Kramer's situation was markedly worse. According to a sworn affidavit filed by fellow inmate Reverend Thomas Coley, Kramer was immediately ostracized for being Jewish. He was denied kosher food, a Hebrew prayer book, and a Jewish Bible - inmate rights that were required by law under the landmark 1999 federal case Jackson v. Mann. Indeed, similar amenities for both Christian and Muslim prisoners were allowed. According to Coley, Kramer was told that he "picked the wrong jail to be Jewish in."

The bond hearing was set for September 14, 2000, more than two weeks after he was arrested. The local news media ran stories about Kramer's arrest that day and the courtroom was jammed with radio and print reporters as well as a number of television crews.

At the hearing, the state only called one witness, Gwinnett County investigator Curtis L. Clemmons who stated that the charges stemmed from an anonymous phone call.

During a search of Kramer's house after the arrest, Clemmons also says he found more than 200 pornographic tapes in Kramer's home, yet the day of the bond hearing, he neglected to bring any of them to the courtroom. It should be noted that two years later, the State conceded that the videos were not pornographic and the tapes - which included The Blues Brothers, Saving Private Ryan, Gladiator and (ironically) Conspiracy Theory - have since been removed as evidence in the case. In fact, the Georgia Court of Appeals held that the entire search warrant's description was so open-ended, that the warrant was in violation of both the Georgia and United States Constitutions.

The hearing was televised and, despite a direct order by jail administrator Major J.J. Hogan to leave the televisions off in the unit where Kramer was housed, it was broadcast to Kramer's fellow inmates. By the end of the evening, Kramer had reportedly received several death threats and was thrown into solitary confinement for his own protection. Besides five days he spent in the medical ward, Kramer says he spent nearly two months in solitary confinement.

According to Kramer, the room consisted of an 8' x 12' cell, stone floor, a metal toilet and basin, a 12" x 16" slab of steel jutting out from the wall at seat and desk levels, and a steel bunk with a 1" pad. Three meals a day are slid through the door and inmates are confined to their cells for 23 hours a day.

"It's primordial," says Harlan Ellison, a renowned novelist and close friend of Kramer. "They behave as if it's the 14th century, and it's the Spanish inquisition. They're treating him as if he's the Marquis De Sade for Chrissakes."

Reverend Thomas Coley was detained on charges of credit card fraud at the GCDC at the same time as Kramer. While there, Coley led a weekly Bible study group and invited Kramer to talk to the class about Judaism. When the deputies found out about this they cancelled the class and threatened Coley, he says. "They told me it was because I had that damn Jew in there. That's when the whole roof caved in," Coley recalls. "They told me they were going to hang Ed and that they were going to hang me along with him." With no actual evidence of credit card fraud against Coley, his charges were later dropped and he was released from the GCDC after spending six months there.

"I wouldn't have believed it had I not been there," says Coley, who has since gone back to ministering. "The anti-Semitism there was horrendous. As a black detainee there's only one thing that I can think that would've been worse for me - and that's if I was Jewish."

If being Jewish weren't hard enough, Kramer was suffering physically as well. Having several pre-existing medical conditions - including one that caused skin lesions - Kramer was denied access to his medications, even though it is normal protocol to allow inmates access to their prescription drugs.

Although six witnesses took the stand that day in defense of Kramer, Judge Debra Kaplan Turner denied bond stating that he posed a "significant threat to the community" and sent Kramer back to the GCDC. Not able to care for his conditions, Kramer began to get infections all over the surface of his body. By this time, Kramer had been sleeping on blood soaked sheets and, according to an affidavit, was not permitted to change his linens prior to laundry day. "The circumstances of [Kramer's] suffering were so obvious that Edward Kramer's sheets, towels, washcloths, uniform, socks, and undergarments were placed in red biohazard bags because of the exposed blood," the affidavit stated. According to Coley, the GCDC deputies went so far as to tell the other inmates that Kramer had AIDS so that he would be further ostracized. Making matters worse, court records show, Kramer was denied daily showers.

When inmates are suffering medical problems, they are sent to the prison infirmary. Prison Health Services (PHS), the nation's largest private provider of correctional medicine, provides medical services for 235,000 inmates in 26 states at more than 400 locations - including the GCDC.

For years, PHS' operations have been under a dark cloud. Dr. Manuel Fajardo, the first PHS physician to examine Kramer, had two drug convictions prior to being hired by PHS. Dwana Gephart, the woman responsible for all PHS activity at GCDC, only has a high school diploma. And inmates, their families, and even PHS' own nurses continue to file complaints alleging negligence against the company.

A PHS whistleblower in Maine, for example, reported that the medical director reported to work intoxicated, the company was charging the state for medications that were prescribed but not actually given, and nurses were instructed to destroy inmate medical records. The whistleblower reported that one nurse even took home 42 boxes and burnt them in her wood stove.

This was no isolated case. In July 2004, New York state investigators accused PHS of causing the death of inmate Brian Tetrault for not giving him his Parkinson's medication. The investigators also urged prosecutors to look into falsified records indicating that Tetrault had been released from custody for 10 minutes prior to the time of his death. With Tetrault a free man, jail authorities would not be required to file a report on the circumstances of his death. Tetrault had survived ten years under the watch of a different prison healthcare provider, but passed away less than week after he was transferred to the care of PHS.

"People die in jail just like they do out in the community," says Jean Byassee, the chief legal officer of PHS. "It's not like this is a hospital setting." Indeed, Byassee says that, at any give time, there are around 1,000 pending lawsuits against PHS.

The Gwinnett County Detention Center as well as the Gwinnett County police department is not new to such lawsuits. In May of this year, 31-year-old Frederick Jerome Williams died after being repeatedly shocked with a 50,000 volt Taser stun gun during a scuffle with sheriff's deputies. And in September 2003, 25-year-old Ray Charles Austin also died after being shocked with a stun gun during a scuffle with "12 to 20 deputies," according to published reports. Both families are suing the county for negligence.

By any stretch of the imagination, Kramer wasn't the healthiest of people even before his stay at the GCDC. He had chronic asthma and sleep apnea; at the age of 15, parts of Kramer's vertebrae were fused together to help his spine; and he suffers from psoriatic arthritis, which causes extreme swelling in the joints as well as external lesions. Yet, prior to his arrest, Kramer often went on rigorous caving excursions which required him to rappel deep into cavernous territory.

On the way to the medical unit on October 4, 2000, Kramer slipped and fell causing trauma to both his head and neck. According to a lawsuit filed by Kramer, PHS' Dr. Fajardo told Kramer he would die in jail. Rheumatologist Glenn Parris, who examined Kramer's injuries, called the situation "disastrous." Even after an MRI revealed spinal cord injury Kramer says he was not given a mattress or a pillow when one became available.

"They just totally and completely dropped the ball when he was incarcerated and it worsened his medical condition," says Kramer's attorney Walter Britt.

Things would only get worse when, on December 1, 2000, a food fight occurred in Kramer's unit. Ninety minutes later, according to Kramer, GCDC's Rapid Response Team held a tactical operations drill and told Kramer to put his hands behind his neck. Kramer says a masked deputy then slammed his head into a reinforced cinder block wall.

According to those present, the guards left a golf ball size extrusion on Kramer's head. Although he was not in the room when it happened, Reverend Coley says that one of the deputies admitted to him that it happened. "This deputy was telling me that they damn near broke his neck and he was happy about it," recalls Coley.

Prison protocol is that anytime the Rapid Response Team is deployed and a deputy touches an inmate, there is a written report documenting the incident. Those reports are then available to the public as open records. When called repeatedly for the report, GCDC claimed that the report for that particular incident "didn't exist" and that they couldn't locate it.

Earlier this summer, Kramer had a case pending before the U.S. 11th Circuit Court of Appeals alleging gross misconduct by Gwinnett County officials, PHS, and others. The Court dismissed it in August stating that Kramer's claims that the medical care in the prison was inadequate were unsubstantiated. As of this printing, Kramer was planning another appeal of that decision.

"I agree with the 11th Circuit's decision," says Christina Bloom, Gwinnett County's attorney handling the suit. "I'm pleased with the result."

Underscoring all these aspects of the case, some of Kramer's supporters believe that the judge in the case, Debra Kaplan Turner, harbors anti-Semitic feelings against Kramer. Turner grew up in Atlanta attending Hebrew School at Congregation Ahavath Achim in Buckhead. But according to her father, while attending law school at the University of Georgia, Turner became an apostate Jew, renouncing her Judaism and converting to Christianity.

"She considers herself Christian," laments Arthur Kaplan, himself a semi-retired judge in Atlanta and still an active member of Ahavath Achim. "It's very concerning to me."

Turner, who married a non-Jew, lives in Lawrenceville, less than seven miles away from the Gwinnett County Detention Center where Kramer was allegedly assaulted. "She's still my child, but I'll never know why she converted," her father says.

Gwinnett attorney John Matteson takes the story one step further. A criminal defense lawyer who has tried several cases in front of Turner, Matteson believes Turner actually became a Messianic Jew. He went so far as to attend a local Messianic temple to see if she prayed there. Matteson is not alone in his beliefs. Some of Kramer's friends have made similar claims, even going so far as saying that Turner wears both a Star of David and a cross around her neck - although none of them admitted to actually seeing it.

According to Atlanta's Mark Sanders, a former Evangelical minister turned Orthodox Jew, the fact that her father says Turner converted to Christianity and others believe she's a Messianic Jew are not contradictory. "The Messianic Jews' theology is clearly Christian," he says. "By virtue of believing in Jesus, a Jew has turned his back on his religion." Sanders, who now goes undercover to get people out of groups like Jews for Jesus, also points out that there are a wide range of Messianic Jews.

"It's hard to measure," he says. "Each one of these Messianic synagogues are a franchise onto themselves. The truth is they're real confused."

Rob Greenwald, a Jewish attorney in Gwinnett who has been friends with Turner for 17 years, says the allegations couldn't be further from the truth. "Whoever told you that is full of crap," he says. "Is she anti-Semitic? Not only no, but hell no."

Assistant District Attorney Jim Miskell, who will be trying the case against Kramer, laughs when he hears the charges of Turner's anti-Semitism. "I haven't seen any evidence of it," he says.

Indeed, a trip to Turner's courtroom reveals a more pleasant picture of the 49-year-old judge. It's a recent Friday morning and Judge Turner is handling a calendar call to set the dates for upcoming trials. A bald attorney sporting a goatee walks in wearing shorts and t-shirt. "I like your outfit," Turner says with a laugh. Another lawyer, 300 pounds and sporting an overgrown mullet, jokes that he needs to hurry up so he can go on vacation.

Overall, Turner seems affable, joking around with both the attorneys and even the defendants. She seems compassionate, trying to save a lawyer some extra work by offering an alternative solution.

Still, Matteson sees another version of the judge. "She's a very personable person," he admits. "Debra Turner is very likable and that's what makes her so deadly."

Citing that the case is still pending, Judge Turner refused to be interviewed for this article. However, during a status hearing of the case in August 2004, she tried to put to rest any claims against her. "I am not anti-Semitic," she told those present in the courtroom. "I have never brought my religious beliefs into this courtroom. Allegations like this disturb me." To ensure that Kramer could have an impartial trial, Turner even offered to recluse herself from the case entirely. Kramer's attorney decided against it.

It's not only Judge Turner who is being questioned in this case. The Grand Jury that indicted Kramer in November 2000 was ruled illegal by Georgia Superior Court Judge John S. Langford because the jury pool was wrongfully selected by Gwinnett officials instead of being an independent process. In fact, Kramer was finally supposed to have his trial in February 2002, but it was delayed because Judge Langford halted all jury trials in Gwinnett for two months because of an invalid jury selection process.

"It's a very, very corrupt county," says Matteson. "I don't think at this point in time there's a chance in hell that Ed can win this kind of a case."

Besides a few stories in the Gwinnett Daily Post and Creative Loafing there has been little mainstream press given to Kramer's situation. And calls to several prominent Jewish attorneys in Atlanta revealed the obvious: Not one of them had even heard of the case.

When the accusations of anti-Semitism at the jail first surfaced, the Anti-Defamation League was contacted and said they would research the case. But years later nothing has been done to help Kramer. "We've chosen not to get involved," says Michael Landis, the assistant associate director of the ADL's Atlanta office.

Further research revealed that, despite having studied the case for two years, the ADL was unaware of Judge Turner's involvement or the fact that Kramer was in home confinement. They thought Kramer was walking the streets, a free man waiting for trial.

Despite learning these new pieces of information, the ADL says it will still not get involved in the case. Several calls to the ADL's national office were left unreturned.

Isaac Jaroslawicz thinks he knows why. The Miami-based attorney spent eight years as the Director of Legal Affairs with the Aleph Institute, a non-profit organization geared to helping with the religious rights of prisoners. While there, he worked on Kramer's case. "We have found that the ADL has rarely been interested in any accused offender," he says. "It doesn't give them the kind of press they want. They want to go after things that will get them better ink - good old fashioned anti-Semites."

In fact, the only national organization, it seems, that has gotten involved is the little-known New York-based American Board of Rabbis. "We looked over the whole thing and we couldn't believe this was the USA," says Rabbi Mordechai Friedman, the president of the decade-old group. "Apparently down there in Atlanta, you're still wearing the white sheets."

Friedman, who crafted a letter on Kramer's behalf that was sent to Governor Perdue and dozens of other politicians, is surprised that the local Jewish community isn't up in arms. "This has all the ear-marks of classical gentile anti-Semitism and the Jews who just don't want to see it. People spit in their faces and they think it's raining."

For those who have never been to Dragon*Con it's a sight to behold. Held every fall in downtown Atlanta, the convention attracts a unique hybrid of Trekkies, Goth followers, and other assorted science fiction fans. To an outside observer, the Goth-geek subculture -- complete with its body piercings and outlandish costumes - doesn't appear to be the most upstanding of crowds.

Which is why many of Kramer's supporters believe the charges against him stem from the enemies Kramer made while holding such a powerful position with the sci-fi convention. "I hate the conspiracy word," says Pat Henry, a former church deacon, who co- founded Dragon*Con with Kramer. "But there are some people who do seem to be jealous of the success we had with Dragon*Con and have taken the opportunity to get Ed."

Henry specifically notes the actions of a former convention security head named Michael Dillson, who tried to start a coup against Kramer. And, talk to anyone about the Kramer case and they will tell you about the efforts of husband and wife team Joe Linhart, Jr. and Nancy Collins. Linhart, who now goes by the name Joe Christ, is a local underground filmmaker who specializes in small horror movies that feature images of Hitler and the cross. His wife's work, which includes more than a dozen horror novels, has cited references to the Messiah as the "blood-smeared Jew."

Kramer helped the couple relocate to Atlanta by finding jobs for both of them. Kramer even lent them money when times were tough.

Yet, when news broke about Kramer's arrest, they feel they were stabbed in the back by the man they once trusted. Among other things, they felt Kramer acted inappropriately by inviting Christ's teenage son on a caving trip. They have since become known in the sci-fi world for badmouthing Kramer and working with Gwinnett County authorities to prevent Kramer from becoming a free man.

Collins, who in typical fantasy writer fashion refers to Kramer as "that creature," even tried to score a book deal out of Kramer's story. "I basically did the only thing I had any hope of doing to try and support my family which was to take this horrendous monstrosity and do something that could be positive about it," she says.

Although publishers were not interested in her story, Collins and Christ have made it their goal to become the disseminators of anti-Kramer rhetoric. They are no longer invited as Dragon*Con speakers, but can often be seen in the lobby passing out anti-Kramer paraphernalia and they have set up a Web site with selective links to court documents on the case.

"Because we're in the public eye, we were kind of singled out as the people who were against Ed," Christ says. "That's not the case. He seems to be presenting himself as the Leo Frank of his day and it's really not the case."

Meanwhile, Kramer's case continues its slow grind through the wheels of justice. In November 2000, he was finally released from GCDC on $75,000 bond to wait out the time before his trial in home confinement. Only his attorney and ordained clergy were allowed to visit him. His 84-year-old mother was not. "Look, home confinement is a substitute for being in custody," says Gwinnett prosecutor Miskell. "It's usually pretty strict."

But Kramer wouldn't be staying at home long. Less than a week later, a neighbor reported seeing a 15-year-old neighborhood boy enter the house. Kramer was hauled back in front of Judge Turner. Melissa Babb, a short boyish looking 34-year-old Marine vet and friend of Kramer testified in court it was her. So did the Army MP who had dropped her off to service Kramer's car. Indeed, the 15-year-old in question - along with his mother - both testified in court that day that the boy was asleep at home and was nowhere near Kramer's house at the supposed time in question. Yet, despite the fact that during the court hearing the neighbor admitted that she didn't actually see anyone enter the house, Turner revoked Kramer's bond and sent him back to the GCDC.

"The woman next door thought Ed was a Jew who sacrificed young gentiles to make matzahs," says the novelist Ellison. "The origins of the charges against Ed are so questionable with people with various obvious agendas. Georgia likes to think it's an enlightened state, but it still has as much anti-Semitism as it always has, especially when you have a feudal duchy running Gwinnett County."

It wasn't until late January 2001, when Turner finally allowed Kramer to return to home confinement. The prosecutors have postponed the court dates several times over the years leading some to believe that they were still trying to dig up quality evidence. The case was even postponed once at the request of the defense team because they claimed they weren't given the evidence necessary to go to trial.

Kramer is scheduled to have an MRI in November 2004 to determine if he needs surgery to repair two screws that snapped out of a plate in his neck after his car was rear-ended while stopped at a railroad crossing last year At the time of this printing, a tentative start date of December 6, 2004 had been set for the trial.

Now resigned to his home, Kramer spends most of his days taking care of his worsening medical condition. He uses PUVA light radiation three times a week for his psoriatic condition. He takes medicated baths twice a day which are followed by steroid treatments. He uses a nebulizer several times a day and a bi-pap machine to help with his breathing. Following the incarceration he developed diabetes. All of this is stabilized by a nasty cocktail of painkillers and anti-seizure medications. The daily routine is mapped out on his PDA, alerting him when it's time to take his next dose.

Not allowed to check his mail or even answer his own door, Kramer has asked Babb to take care of his daily errands -- going to the grocery store, the post office, and the kosher butcher He spends the rest of the day catching upon things he never had time to do, like studying the Talmud and reading books. He's even penned a new book about Kabbalah, the Jewish study of mysticism.

Unable to bring in any new income, Kramer continues to go into a whirlwind of debt, forcing him to put multiple mortgages on his home and spiraling into $150,000 in credit card bills. Occasionally, he receives royalty checks from the various book projects that he's worked on over the years. Another friend has set up a legal defense find, but the little money brought in from donations goes to pay for Kramer's climbing legal fees.

Guilty or innocent, almost everyone involved believes he deserves his day in court. "At this stage in the game, as much as it's a scary thought, his only hope is to have a quick trial," says Jaroslawicz. "But my understanding is that there are really some serious holes in the prosecutor's case. And the only way to resolve these issues is to get a speedy acquittal. Either way, I would say, get the acquittal, pack your bags, and get the hell out of Gwinnett County."

Kramer plans on doing just that. He moved to Georgia in 1979 to attend Emory but says he will leave the state as soon as he possibly can. He has invitations from friends to stay with them in New York, Chicago, and Los Angeles - all cities with larger Jewish communities than Atlanta.

However, if Kramer has his way, he would love to move to Israel with his elderly mother Neither of them have ever been to the Holy Land and, to Kramer, it is the only place he would like to call home.

Benyamin Cohen is the author of "My Jesus Year: A Rabbi's Son Wanders the Bible Belt in Search of His Own Faith," now out in paperback.

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