Matthew Shepard

October 16, 1998
Web posted at: 9:43 a.m. EDT (1343 GMT) CASPER, Wyoming (CNN) — Bracing for potential violence, Wyoming officials have brought out bomb-sniffing dogs and banned protests in hopes of protecting the family of Matthew Shepard on Friday, the day of the slain student’s funeral.

Shepard, 21, died Monday at a Colorado hospital, five days after he was found tied to a fence in near-freezing temperatures outside Laramie. The University of Wyoming student had been pistol-whipped and abandoned.

Two 21-year-old men have been charged with murder in Shepard’s death. Police say their primary motive was robbery, but that Shepard was singled out because he was gay.

Casper has reportedly received threats of violence from groups and individuals protesting Shepard’s homosexuality. In addition, an anti-homosexual Baptist group from Topeka, Kansas, has threatened to demonstrate during Shepard’s funeral, scheduled for Friday afternoon.

During an emergency meeting on Thursday, the Casper City Council voted to ban all protesters from demonstrating within 50 feet of the funeral service.

Police are also using bomb-sniffing dogs to make sure the church where the funeral will be held is safe.

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Shepard’s uncle and father spoke at a news conference before the funeral
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“It’s sad that we have to do this — that the sanctity of a funeral is not upheld,” said Casper City Councilman Tim Monroe.

The ban prohibits people from picketing on sidewalks, streets and other areas next to the memorial service.

“We’ve never faced this before,” said Councilman Paul Bertoglio, who said the city is trying to keep peace among the potential protesters while taking pressure off the Shepards and other relatives.

“One of the things we’re trying to do, besides protecting those who want to protest on both sides, is protecting family and relatives to allow them to breathe in peace,” Bertoglio said.

Gov. Jim Geringer has said Wyoming officials can not stop the anti-homosexual group from Topeka’s Westboro Baptist from coming to Casper, but that the group’s presence was not wanted.

The Associated Press contributed to this report.

From the Chaplain of Trinity College, Hartford, CT

I saw on the news today that Matthew Shepard died. He was the 22 year old man from Wyoming who was beaten and tortured and left to die for no reason other than he was a homosexual. This tragic murder has raised a national debate again, the kind of periodic soul-searching our society goes through whenever a crime of hate startles us into awareness. The burning of Black churches, the bombing of innocent people, the death of a shy young man from Wyoming - these events suddenly shake us out of complacency and remind us that fear, prejudice and rage are always the shadows just beyond the light of our reason.

And so people suddenly start to speak out. There are voices of outrage and grief. Voices of sorrow and demands to know why such a thing could happen. And predictably, there are also defensive voices: the governor of Wyoming trying to explain why his state has no laws to protect people from hate crimes and the leadership of what is called the “Christian right wing” trying to explain why their national ads against homosexuality don’t influence people to commit such violence against gays and lesbians. In the days to come, these many voices will fill our media and the cultural consciousness it imprints until we are once again lulled into the more familiar patterns of our lives, until the next tragedy rings the alarm of despair.

As the chaplain for our own community, I would like to invite us all to consider Matthew’s death in another way. Not through the clamor or denials, not through the shouts or cries of anger: but rather, through the silence of his death, the silence of that young man hanging on his cross of pain, alone in the emptiness of a Wyoming night, the silence that ultimately killed him as surely as the beatings he endured. Silence killed Matthew Shepard. The silence of Christians who know that the scriptures on homosexuality are few and murky in interpretation and far outweighed by the words of a savior whose only comment on human relationships was to call us to never judge but only to love. The silence of well meaning educated people who pretend to have an enlightened view of homosexuality while quietly tolerating the abuse of gays and lesbians in their own communities. The silence of our elected officials who have the authority to make changes but prefer to count votes. The silence of the majority of “straight” Americans who shift uncomfortably when confronted by the thought that gays and lesbians may be no different from themselves, save for the fact that they are walking targets for bigotry, disrespect, cheap humor, and apparently, of murder.

Crimes of hate may live in shouts of rage, but they are born in silence. Here at Trinity, I hope we will all listen to that silence. Before we jump to decry Matthew’s senseless death or before we seek to rationalize it with loud disclaimers: I hope we will just hear the silence. A young man’s heart has ceased to beat. Hear the silence of that awful truth. It is the silence of death. It is the silence that descends on us like a shroud. At Trinity, as in Wyoming, we are men and women surrounded by the silence of our own fear. Our fear of those who are different. Our fear of being identified with the scapegoat. Our fear of taking an unpopular position for the sake of those who can not stand alone. Our fear of social and religious change. Our fear comes in many forms but it always comes silently: A whispered joke. A glance to look away from the truth. A quick shake of the head to deny any complicity in the pain of others. These silent aspects of our own fear of homosexuality are acted out on this campus every day just as they are acted out every day in Wyoming. Through silence, we give ourselves permission to practice what we pretend to abhor. With silence, we condemn scores of our neighbors to live in the shadows of hate. In silence we observe the suffering of any group of people who have been declared expendable by our society.

As a person of faith, I will listen, as we all will, to the many voices which will eulogize Matthew Shepard. I will carry that part of our national shame on my shoulders. But I will also listen to the silence which speaks much more eloquently still to the truth behind his death. I will listen and I will remember. And I will renew my resolve never to allow this silence to have the last word.

Not for Matthew. Not for gay men or lesbian women. Not for any person in our society of any color or condition who has been singled out for persecution. Not in my church. Not in my nation. Not in Wyoming. And not at Trinity College.