Anthony Gay always fought back. Even in first grade he was quick with his fists, especially when kids mocked his temper or taunted him because he lived with foster parents.
When he came home bloody and bruised, a big mutt he called Diamond comforted him. His aunt, Shirley Gay, who raised her nephew in a tough Rock Island neighborhood, said she always feared that someday Gay's anger would get him into serious trouble.
However, there was nothing in his juvenile record to suggest that Gay would end up where he is today -- serving 99 years in solitary confinement at Illinois' supermax prison, the Tamms Correctional Center -- after an initial conviction for punching another youth and stealing his hat and a dollar bill. He received probation for that crime, but violated it and landed in prison at age 20 to serve seven years, with parole possible after 3 1/2.
Gay was sent to the maximum security Pontiac Correctional Center, where convictions in the nearby Livingston County Court for assaulting guards added decades to the quick-tempered inmate's sentence, even though these crimes did not involve serious injury and such crimes often are not prosecuted at other prisons, a News-Democrat investigation found.
Gay spends 23 hours a day in a cell at Tamms, in the southern tip of Illinois, where he has been held for the last five years. He first was transferred to Tamms in 1998 and held for about a year before being returned to Pontiac.
To cope with the isolation at Tamms, he has regularly mutilated himself to the point that it required extensive suturing to close his wounds, sometimes without anesthetic, court records state.
The Tamms policy regarding "cutters" often means time on a strap-down bed, a metal framework where an inmate lies spread-eagle, bound by his arms and legs with leather straps.
Gay has been strapped down for periods of up to 32 hours, according to court documents. A prison doctor has testified that mutilators are restrained this way for their own protection so they can't cut themselves until the desire to mutilate passes.
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Monday, September 28, 2009
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
U.City lawyer wins big in class-action case
Seven years ago, when lawyer John Mulligan began trying to force cell phone companies to pay municipal taxes, he was in a David and Goliath matchup.
Mulligan, a solo practitioner, recalled a meeting where the cell phone companies' representative was an attorney for the Chicago megafirm, Winston & Strawn.
Mulligan said he was hoping for a quick settlement. "But this attorney told me, 'I have an infinite litigation budget. I will be retired before you ever see a penny in this case,'" Mulligan said.
But Mulligan subsequently got some muscle of his own — St. Louis class-action firm Korein Tillery — and began winning. In settlements across the state, the cell phone companies agreed to pay millions in taxes to cities.
And Mulligan has made millions in fees. But instead of enjoying his success, Mulligan finds himself under fire in his hometown of University City — which stands to be one of the beneficiaries of the latest cell phone case, against AT&T.
Mulligan, a lifelong resident of University City and its municipal attorney — like his father was from 1963 to 1986 — is being accused of having a conflict of interest in advising the city on attorney's fees in the AT&T case.
The matter came to a head at Monday night's City Council meeting, where two residents, both lawyers, accused Mulligan and his legal team of seeking an excessive cut — $16 million — of the $65 million settlement in the AT&T case. (U. City's cut of that settlement would be $874,000, and the city also would collect an additional $184,000 a year in tax revenue.)
"There is indeed a conflict," said council member Lynn Ricci, a lawyer. "I'm not saying Mr. Mulligan shouldn't be fairly compensated, but he should not be overly compensated to the detriment of the city."
The council and Mayor Joe Adams unanimously agreed to Ricci's motion to hire an independent lawyer to review the fees and settlement.
Mulligan, 50, said he has developed a thick skin after years in the courtroom. But he said the comments at Monday night's meeting left him shaken.
"It really hurts that some people think I'd try to rip off my own city," he said. "I'm sorry if it sounds like I'm venting, but I don't need this crap. Not like my work is crap, but I take offense. My integrity's being questioned."
Mulligan, a solo practitioner, recalled a meeting where the cell phone companies' representative was an attorney for the Chicago megafirm, Winston & Strawn.
Mulligan said he was hoping for a quick settlement. "But this attorney told me, 'I have an infinite litigation budget. I will be retired before you ever see a penny in this case,'" Mulligan said.
But Mulligan subsequently got some muscle of his own — St. Louis class-action firm Korein Tillery — and began winning. In settlements across the state, the cell phone companies agreed to pay millions in taxes to cities.
And Mulligan has made millions in fees. But instead of enjoying his success, Mulligan finds himself under fire in his hometown of University City — which stands to be one of the beneficiaries of the latest cell phone case, against AT&T.
Mulligan, a lifelong resident of University City and its municipal attorney — like his father was from 1963 to 1986 — is being accused of having a conflict of interest in advising the city on attorney's fees in the AT&T case.
The matter came to a head at Monday night's City Council meeting, where two residents, both lawyers, accused Mulligan and his legal team of seeking an excessive cut — $16 million — of the $65 million settlement in the AT&T case. (U. City's cut of that settlement would be $874,000, and the city also would collect an additional $184,000 a year in tax revenue.)
"There is indeed a conflict," said council member Lynn Ricci, a lawyer. "I'm not saying Mr. Mulligan shouldn't be fairly compensated, but he should not be overly compensated to the detriment of the city."
The council and Mayor Joe Adams unanimously agreed to Ricci's motion to hire an independent lawyer to review the fees and settlement.
Mulligan, 50, said he has developed a thick skin after years in the courtroom. But he said the comments at Monday night's meeting left him shaken.
"It really hurts that some people think I'd try to rip off my own city," he said. "I'm sorry if it sounds like I'm venting, but I don't need this crap. Not like my work is crap, but I take offense. My integrity's being questioned."
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