Shalzed Meets the ACLU's Yasmin Cader

Shalzed is a superhero who tried and failed to use his powers to achieve human rights. Now he speaks with individuals whose views he disagrees with, to persuade and understand. For his full bio, click here.

This week Shalzed meets Yasmin Cader of the ACLU. The ACLU opposes the death penalty, while Trump supports it. Yasmin is leading an effort to convince President Biden to commute the sentences of everyone on federal death row before he leaves office

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I didn’t know the ACLU of Los Angeles had security like Fort Knox. Reinforced door, buzzer and camera to get in, the works. I guess warriors for justice have enemies too.

I told the receptionist I had an appointment with Yasmin. That was a lie, of course, since I never bother to make appointments. When the lady asked my name I said Pudding Von Crumbcake. Not sure why, but making stuff up is fun and saying my real name might give the poor woman an unnecessary fright.

The ACLU rented in what seemed like a rather middle class building. As I looked around the lobby, I noticed a firm called ‘Nest and Nook Interiors’ to the left, and according to the directory there was a T-shirt store called ‘Shirt Happens’ somewhere else on this floor.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Cader is in a meeting,” the receptionist said a moment later through the intercom.

“Tell her it’s Shalzed,” I said back. She’ll manage. A man in a Hawaiian short sleeve shirt and Dodgers baseball cap heading into Nest and Nook stared at me. I realized I had raised my voice. It’s hard to get rid of a temper, I guess.

The receptionist didn’t respond, but about ten seconds later Yasmin Cader slipped out the door, making sure it locked behind her. I caught just a brief glimpse of the walls covered with posters about civil rights and worker strikes inside.

“I appreciate you taking a moment away from your important meeting,” I said, although I assumed that was a fib.

“And to what do I owe this displeasure?” she asked me.

“I saw your husband on TV last night, it made me think of you.” She was married to the fellow on Entertainment Tonight.

“Good, I’ll let him know you like his show,” she said, turning back towards the door.

“Maybe this Saturday I’ll shoot everybody in a synagogue. Then after that I’ll plant a bomb in some crowd. Do you happen to know when L.A. has its next marathon?”

Yasmin turned towards me and put her hands on her hips. “Do you want me to vomit?”

I wave my palms in the air. “What do you mean, I’m trying to get you to like me.”

“I don’t like any of those people, and you know it.” She made little air quote gestures on the word ‘like’.

“So you devote your whole professional career to helping people you don’t like.” I shrugged. “Maybe we’ve got something in common.” I felt like I deserved a pat on the back for introspection.

“First of all, it’s not just the ACLU. So far it’s over 350 organizations together. And no one is asking that they go free, just that Biden commute their death sentence to life in prison before he leaves office.”

“You don’t think what Dzhokhar did was bad enough? Maybe if he had killed a few dozen more?”

“It’s not a question of bad enough. You can even explain it in terms of money. The death penalty costs the taxpayers way more than prison.”

“Damn, now I’m afraid of my next electric bill. I make toast nearly every morning.”

Yasmin gave me a glare, probably the same look she used on people who were trying to play it a little too clever while she cross-examined them on the stand. “Do you have a brain, or did superpowers take all the room inside your head?”

“I’m pretty smart,” I told her. Unfortunately, the only actual example of something smart I had recently done that I could think of was beating my cell phone at chess. I thought it best not to mention, though, since I had it set at beginner level.

“Carrying out the death penalty is not necessarily expensive,” she said. “Especially if they use the electric chair. But before anyone is executed there are decades of appeals, all at government expense.”

“So cut out the appeals,” I told her.

“And risk even more mistakes? Already around 200 people have been wrongly sentenced to death in the last 50 years.”

“Everyone knows Dzhokhar did it. And what about Bowers? He was captured inside the synagogue while killing people with an assault rifle. His own lawyer admitted he’s guilty.”

“It’s the principle,” Yasmin said. Now she folded her arms against her chest and gave me her stubborn look. “Capital cases are emotional, and juries frequently make mistakes. The government has no business imposing a punishment that can’t be reversed.”

And Yasmin wondered whether I have a brain? “Sure,” I told her. “Unlike life in prison. Let’s say you send someone to the slammer, then forty years later figure out it was bad evidence and set them free. I’m sure they’ll say it was no big deal, they enjoyed all the deep friendships they made inside and are worried about losing touch with their cellie. No harm, no foul.”

A woman wearing a tie-dye T-shirt with hair down to her belly button came right up to us and interrupted. “Do you know where Sit Happens is?” she asked.

“This floor,” I told her, remembering the directory.

Yasmin shook her head. “Up one level,” she told the woman. “Trust me, unlike this two legged mule I actually have a job and work here every day.” The woman headed towards the stairs without saying thank you.

“She hardly looks like the type to shop for designer T-shirts,” I said.

“She’s not. You’re thinking of Shirt Happens around the corner. Sit Happens is upstairs and sells organic furniture.”

I shook my head. “Lucky I don’t live in L.A., I wouldn’t be able to tell the stores apart.” I decided not to ask what the hell is organic furniture.

“Do you know how much racial bias there is in the death penalty?” Yasmin asked.

“Racism? I thought the ACLU stamped that out already.”

“No, but we’re still on it. The death penalty is far more likely when the defendant is black, and even more so when the victim is white.”

“So that’s why you want to let Bowers, who is white and who killed eleven white people at Tree of Life Synagogue, off the hook?”

Yasmin sighed. “We can’t pick and choose. The only fair thing is for Biden to commute everyone on death row before Trump gets a chance to carry out the executions.”

“And here I thought you were a Republican.”

“I believe I have a meeting. Enjoy your afternoon flying around.”

“I gave up flying,” I told her.

“Lucky for the world,” she replied.

“One question- if the death penalty deterred one mass murder, saving dozens of lives, wouldn’t it be worth it?” I asked.

Yasmin waved dismissively. “The death penalty doesn’t deter anything. That’s been proven.”

“You don’t think fear of being executed could make someone think twice about what they’re going to do?” I asked her.

“Crimes are committed out of passion. Criminals don’t think rationally about costs and benefits. Especially when the death penalty is applied so unevenly.”

The ACLU door opened and a woman who I assumed was the receptionist poked her head out. She glanced quickly at me, then at Yasmin. “Everything okay?” she whispered.

Yasmin checked her watch. “Just heading back for my meeting,” she said, giving the receptionist a conspiratorial look.

“You’ll have to hurry with that petition. January 20^th is coming up,” I told her.

“Don’t remind me,” Yasmin said.

“Hey, it’s secret ballot. Don’t even think of asking me who I voted for.”

“And the ACLU is extremely busy preparing for Trump’s second term. I have to work. Goodbye.” Yasmin made a little wave and went back into the office, closing the heavy door firmly behind her.

I went to the stairs, then turned around and decided to pay a visit to Shirt Happens. Organic furniture struck me as too domestic, but I could use some nicer clothing now that I’m no longer wearing a cape.