Authors: Jeff Benedict,Don Yaeger
Contrary to popular opinion, judges do not routinely give professional athletes preferential treatment. The same cannot be said for coaches and general managers. “Our hands are tied on these things,” Reeves said several times. “That is up to the league.”
Strangely, Reeves admitted that he didn’t wait to get a green light from the league before taking action in the Bates case. “I never talked to the league,” he said. “I came in and saw the things that went on and just felt like we needed to release him.”
Bennett was scheduled to begin serving his sixty-day jail term on April 13, 1998. Instead, he filed an appeal. A New York Appeals Court judge delayed the start of the jail term, allowing Bennett to remain free while the State Supreme Court determined whether his case deserved a review. The appeal was ultimately denied and on April 30, 1998, Bennett surrendered to New York authorities and began serving his sixty-day sentence. He showed up at jail with his wife and two-month-old daughter.
And whatever became of Patrick Bates?
On March 23, 1998, just weeks before Bennett’s jail sentence was announced, Bates pleaded guilty to a felony charge of criminal damage to property and second degree battery. He was sentenced to five years’ probation, fined $5,000, required to complete a violence class and continue psychotherapy, pay $711 to Billan for medical bills, and make child support payments. He did not get any jail time.
On May 5, 1998, he signed a free agent contract with the Oakland Raiders.
Both Bennett and Bates will be in uniform for the 1998 season.
Risky Business
The Falcons’ experience leaves the lasting impression that the more talented the player, the higher the threshold for tolerating crime. And the Raiders’ decision to sign Bates suggests even reserve players who are violent criminals can get picked up by another team as long as there is a need for their talent. These cases illustrate the dilemma of every NFL coach and general manager: What do you do when a player, particularly a starter or key role player, is convicted of a violent crime? Keep playing him, hoping it never happens again? Or punish him and risk losses?
As the authors discovered, teams have paid a high price for taking the risk of playing a star convicted of violent crimes. But the risk is irresistible—and will be taken over and over again—if the talent is there.
O
n March 22, 1992, Kansas City Chiefs wide receiver Tim Barnett was arrested for battery against his wife. Barnett appeared before Johnson County District Judge John Anderson III on June 25 and pleaded guilty to the lesser charge of disorderly conduct. Anderson sentenced Barnett to thirty days in jail, but agreed to suspend the sentence if Barnett completed counseling and refrained from further violation of the law for a full year.
Then on June 5, 1993, three weeks shy of completing his one-year probation term, Barnett was again arrested. This time Barnett had assaulted his wife and threatened her with a Colt Python handgun. He was charged with making a terroristic threat and aggravated assault, both felonies, as well as one count of misdemeanor assault. In another plea-bargained deal, Barnett pleaded guilty to misdemeanor assault and battery. Judge Anderson, on October 27, then revoked the suspension on Barnett’s previous thirty-day jail sentence and ordered the wide receiver to jail. But the Chiefs were in mid-season and Anderson agreed to delay the imposition of the sentence until no later than January 4, 1994. Presumably, the Chiefs’ season would be over by then and Barnett’s incarceration would not interfere with his career.
There was one small problem. The Chiefs made the playoffs. And by the time January 4 arrived—the day Barnett was supposed to surrender himself into custody—the Chiefs were four days away from hosting the Pittsburgh Steelers in a second-round playoff game. Barnett was one of quarterback Joe Montana’s primary receivers and his presence in the lineup was crucial for the Chiefs to win the game.
On the morning of January 4, Barnett’s attorney, William Grimshaw, petitioned Judge Anderson to further delay the imposition of Barnett’s jail sentence until after the playoffs were concluded. “Barnett’s job with the Chiefs would be in jeopardy if he had to miss the playoffs Saturday,” insisted Grimshaw.
Anderson, whose patience was exhausted, rejected the request and ordered Barnett to jail effective immediately. “I can’t really justify treating you a whole lot different than I would treat anybody else just because you’re a Kansas City Chiefs player,” said Judge Anderson from the bench. “Now, am I supposed to just cross my fingers and hope this time it’s going to stick, and next time we’re not going to have to have you in here for hurting somebody real bad? I don’t feel comfortable with that.”
Hours after announcing the sentence, Judge Anderson suddenly took ill and left the courthouse. Meanwhile, Grimshaw filed a notice of appeal and moved for Barnett to be released on bond. Assistant District Attorney Melinda Whitman argued that the appeal should be denied, saying the two sides had previously agreed to sentencing terms and that the appeal would probably be withdrawn as soon as the season concluded.
District Judge Pro-Tern Robert Morse, sitting in Judge Anderson’s place, said he was required to set the bond, which he did at $1,500. Grimshaw secured the bond and Barnett was released.
“That’s not right,” Johnson County District Attorney Paul Morrison told the
Kansas City Star
shortly after Barnett’s release. “Mr. Barnett needs to be in doing his time, not because he’s a Chief but because he keeps breaking the law.”
Yet the Chiefs were glad to have their criminally convicted receiver available for Saturday’s game. “Our understanding is that he’s available to us for the rest of the season,” Chiefs director of public relations Bob Moore told the
Kansas City Star.
Having Barnett in a football uniform rather than a jail uniform proved crucial to the Chiefs’ success. With less than two minutes remaining in regulation and Kansas City trailing the Steelers by seven points, Joe Montana was orchestrating one of his trademark come-from-behind drives. Ultimately, Barnett was on the receiving end of Montana’s game-tying touchdown pass, sending the game into overtime, where the Chiefs went on to win. Barnett’s spectacular reception sent sold-out Arrowhead Stadium into a frenzy.
The following day, the
Kansas City Star
dubbed Barnett “the toast of the town.” His clutch performance caused fans and sports-writers to quickly forget that Barnett was a twice-convicted criminal who should have been in jail. The following week Kansas City was eliminated from the playoffs. Barnett, meanwhile, remained free as he and his attorney continued his appeal.
On June 24, 1994, with Barnett still free, Judge Anderson’s expressed apprehension about Barnett “hurting somebody real bad” became a reality. That morning, Barnett, along with two friends, was staying at a hotel in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. He was in town to attend a friend’s wedding. At approximately 11
A.M.
, Tanisha Warren,* a fourteen-year-old housekeeper who was working in her first part-time job, knocked on the door to room 215. Although Barnett and his two friends were inside, they did not respond. Noticing the door was partly ajar, Warren called out, “Housekeeping.” Still hearing no response, she repeated, “Housekeeping.”
Convinced that the room was vacant, Warren did as she had been trained and entered the room to clean it. To her surprise, she discovered the three men when she entered. “Do you want any service?” Warren asked nervously.
“Yeah,” responded one of the men.
Walking between the men, who were positioned on their respective beds, Warren restocked the room with clean towels and drinking glasses before going in to clean the bathroom. Exiting the room after completing her duties, Warren was stopped by Barnett.
“Can I ask you a question?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she responded.
“What is your phone number?” Barnett asked.
Scared and not wanting to divulge her home phone number, Warren handed Barnett a Manchester Suites courtesy card, purposely misspelled her name on it, and wrote down an erroneous phone number. “I didn’t want to give him the right one,” she would later testify in court.
Barnett took the card from Warren. “Can I ask you a question?” he said again.
“Yes,” Warren said as Barnett took her hands and pulled her down toward the bed.
“Ain’t nobody been in this?” Barnett asked as he put his hands up Warren’s housekeeping dress.
Thinking that he was asking whether she had ever had sex before, Warren responded, “No.”
Without warning, Barnett suddenly turned Warren’s shoulders and forced her onto her back. “He pulled up my dress … and then he started rubbing on my breasts,” Warren later testified. “He was asking me if it felt good. And then he started to rub on my vagina. I kept telling him stop. I had took my leg off the bed to get up and he put my leg back up. Then he put the covers over me … He started licking my ear. He asked me a couple times, ‘Did it feel good?’ Then he unbuttoned his pants and pulled it down …. to his knees and started rubbing his penis against my vagina. He said he was going to put it in. Then he started rubbing on my breast again and … rubbing his penis against my vagina real fast, and then some of me started hurting …”
Warren made a futile attempt to push against Barnett’s chest as she pleaded with him to stop. But she was no match for his strength. Finally, Barnett climbed off her and scurried into the bathroom. Warren noticed that her thighs were wet and her panties had semen on them. While Barnett was in the bathroom, she pulled down her dress, grabbed her caddieful of hotel supplies, and ran out of the room to find her older sister, who also worked at the hotel.
After reporting what happened, Warren was brought to the Women’s Assessment Center where she was treated and samples of blood, pubic hairs, head hairs, and smears and swabs were taken. Her clothes were placed in plastic bags for evidence. And after confiding in her parents, Warren reported the incident to the Milwaukee police.
In July, Milwaukee authorities charged Barnett with sexually assaulting a child under the age of sixteen, a felony carrying a possible ten-year state prison sentence. The following day the Chiefs, who were involved in training camp, released Barnett. “As with every decision we make, we thought it was in the best interest of our football team at this time,” head coach Marty Schottenheimer told the press. Although it was quite obvious, Schottenheimer refused to confirm whether Barnett’s release was a result of his arrest for sexually assaulting a minor.
On June 12, 1995, a Milwaukee jury convicted Barnett and he was later sentenced to serve three years in prison. On January 10, 1997, after being paroled from a Wisconsin state prison, Barnett returned to Kansas to serve the thirty-day jail sentence for the first assault on his wife back in 1992. By this point, his high-powered attorney had withdrawn from representing him and the Chiefs and NFL teams were no longer interested in him. Attempts to reach Barnett were unsuccessful.
O
ne player, one teenage girl, one rape. It would seem enough to teach a team a lesson. It wasn’t.
In October of 1997, only two years after the Barnett debacle, the Chiefs again made a decision to employ a player with a formidable criminal history. In the quest for the best record in the AFC, the Chiefs made a blockbuster mid-season trade for Wayne Simmons, starting linebacker from the Green Bay Packers. Unbeknownst to fans in Kansas City, Simmons was at that moment being investigated for the alleged rape of a teenage girl.
State of Georgia v. Wayne Simmons
HILTON HEAD, SOUTH CAROLINA, MAY 30, 1997
It was 7:00
P.M.
when graduation ceremonies got underway at Hilton Head High School. Twenty-seven-year old Wayne Simmons, a 1988 graduate of Hilton Head, had been invited back to his alma mater to deliver a commencement address and have his football jersey retired. Few high school graduations have a reigning Super Bowl champion deliver a message to the grads. Following a post-graduation run-in with Simmons, graduating senior Susan Jensen* was hardly feeling privileged to be among the few who did.
When the ceremonies ended, Jensen and her friend Cyndy Johnson* joined a small group of graduates who drove to nearby Savannah, Georgia, to celebrate. After arriving in Savannah, Jensen and Johnson split off from the rest of the group, which went to get something to eat. Instead, Jensen met up with a girlfriend, Emily Scott,* who lived in Savannah, and Johnson linked up with her boyfriend Paul Benson.* The four of them then went to The Zoo, an eighteen-and-over club. Scott knew the bouncer, who ushered the four of them in for free after stamping the word “ZOO” across the back of their hands.
Once inside, Johnson and her boyfriend went off on their own. The bouncer, a cousin to the club’s owner, George Murphy, proudly invited Jensen and Scott down to a private lounge below the dance floor to meet Murphy and a famous NFL player who was the club’s most prestigious patron. Not much of a football fan, Jensen didn’t suspect that Wayne Simmons was the guy the bouncer was referring to. Besides, she hardly expected to find Simmons, who had just spoken at her graduation, hanging out in a club for eighteen-and nineteen-year-olds. However, according to the statement Jensen would later give police, she recognized Simmons once she was introduced to him.
“Oh, yeah, you were at my graduation,” said Jensen.
“Where?” said Simmons.
“On Hilton Head,” replied Jensen.
“Oh yeah.”
“Like they retired your jersey, right?”
“Yeah they did. Well, congratulations on your graduation.”
“Thanks.”
A
fter addressing the grads, Simmons, whose driver’s license had been revoked in South Carolina on account of a drunk driving conviction, asked his longtime friend Elliot Mitchell to drive him to Savannah. A divorced father of four, Mitchell was not interested in hanging out with the young crowd at The Zoo. A friend since Simmons’s childhood, however, Mitchell went along with Simmons’s wishes and ultimately agreed to drive him to Savannah.