Attorney Taking On Sodomy Law
  Ex-Agnew staffer decries governmental intrusion
  Richmond Times Dispatch,
  June 13, 1999
  Box 85333, Richmond, VA 23293-0001 
  Fax 804-775-8072 or 775-8090
  Email: rmackenzie@timesdispatch.com 
  By Rex Bowman, Times-Dispatch Staff Writer 
  ROANOKE—Former Watergate attorney Samuel Garrison III says it is time
  to sit down and talk about sodomy. 
  To that end, Garrison is leading an assault on Virginia's anti-sodomy law, a
  207-year-old relic from an era in which lawmakers labeled perverse those who would
  sexually gratify themselves in ways that did not help mankind to "go forth and
  multiply." 
  Police vice squads around the state—in Richmond, Charlottesville and Roanoke, for
  instance—have lately resuscitated the law to clamp down on homosexual activity in
  public parks and restrooms. 
  But the law doesn't apply just to homosexuals. In essence—and brace yourself for
  frank language here—the law proscribes the sexual behavior of all Virginians and can
  make the most intimate of physical acts a felony. Whether homosexual or heterosexual, man
  or woman, married or single—no one in Virginia can legally engage in oral sex or anal
  sex. 
  The law, Garrison said, is crazy. 
  "You've got all these adult Virginians committing sodomy joyously and frequently,
  in their homes or in hotels," said Garrison. "But the fact is, it's illegal in
  Virginia. The statute on its face is unconstitutional." 
  Garrison, once the chief Republican counsel for the House Judiciary Committee
  considering President Richard Nixon's impeachment, is now defending nine men accused of
  soliciting oral sex from an undercover police officer at Roanoke's Wasena Park. One of the
  men is scheduled for trial in July. 
  The other eight pleaded guilty last week, but only on condition that they be allowed to
  appeal by challenging the constitutionality of the state's ban on consensual sodomy. 
  Sodomy is a felony punishable by a fine of up to $2,500 and up to five years in prison.
  
  Garrison, himself a homosexual, said it is the anti-sodomy law that will be put on
  trial in the Virginia appeals court. 
  "It would be quite an honor to be the champion" defender of sodomy, Garrison
  said. "What we're talking about is being the champion of 4 million adult Virginians,
  being the champion of keeping the government from intruding into their bedrooms." 
  Alice Ekirch sees it differently. Ekirch, the assistant Roanoke commonwealth's attorney
  who prosecuted Garrison's clients, said the sodomy law is fair and necessary to halt sex
  acts in public places, such as city parks where children play. 
  "We're not talking about going into the bedrooms of consenting adults," she
  said. "We're talking about trying to stop people from having sex in a public park.
  It's not unconstitutional on its face, and that's what we'll be arguing on appeal." 
  In addition to the nine men Garrison represents, four others have pleaded guilty to
  trying to solicit sodomy in Roanoke, and five more charged with the felony plan to stand
  trial. 
  Altogether, seven lawyers represent 18 men. Garrison, however, has taken on the largest
  share of the defense work, which is likely to yield headlines, publicity and animated
  workplace chit-chat when his appeals climb their way through the state courts. 
  He's no stranger to such limelight. Formerly Roanoke's prosecutor, the now 57-year-old
  Garrison moved to Washington to join the staff of then-Vice President Spiro T. Agnew at
  the age of 30 and from there became chief GOP counsel on the House committee investigating
  Watergate in 1974. 
  Back in Roanoke in 1980, Garrison's soaring legal career nose-dived. He was convicted
  of embezzling nearly $46,000, a crime for which he spent four months in prison and lost
  his law license. Three years later, his partner in a failed Roanoke discotheque tried to
  hire a hit man to murder him for $500,000 in business life insurance. The partner, an oral
  surgeon, received a five-year suspended sentence. 
  The Virginia Supreme Court restored Garrison's law license in 1993. 
  Now, Garrison could end up before the state high court again, this time arguing on
  behalf of men whose lives have been shattered over an act that, Garrison says, most
  Virginians feel fine about. To make that point, Garrison has already obtained the sworn
  testimony of more than a dozen psychologists, sexologists and ministers, including a
  Southern Baptist, who spoke to the joys and benefits of oral sex. 
  "The public attitude is not stuck in the 17th century," he said. 
  Garrison is not the first to attempt to undo the law. The General Assembly has
  considered several bills in recent years that sought to rewrite the anti-sodomy statute so
  that the only "crimes against nature" would be sex acts involving minors, close
  relatives or animals. 
  But the bills -- House Bill 2718 in 1997, Senate Bill 583 in 1998, House Bill 1504 this
  year -- all died quiet deaths. While lawmakers publicly voiced concerns that the state's
  anti-sodomy law is an old-fashioned attempt to regulate private behavior, few were willing
  to go on record as a supporter of a particular sex act. 
  In the words of Del. Clifton "Chip" Woodrum, a Roanoke Democrat: "People
  wanted to stay out of the way of the whole thing." 
  Kent Willis, director of the Virginia American Civil Liberties Union, said legislators
  did not want to appear as if they were supporting the civil rights of gays and lesbians. 
  "There is no greater hypocrisy," Willis said. "The vast majority will
  talk about government intrusion, then they're afraid to assist a gay-lesbian rights
  vote." 
  Given legislators' squeamishness, Willis said, the courts might be the best place to
  change the law. 
  Indeed, in other states opponents of sodomy laws have had some success in the courts.
  As recently as 40 years ago there were 51 sodomy laws in the United States—one in every
  state plus the District of Columbia. Today, 18 such laws remain, including the one in
  Virginia. Twenty-six of the original 51 statutes were repealed by state legislatures and
  the D.C. government. Seven were struck down by state courts. 
  Proponents of Virginia's sodomy law, however, can take heart in this: The U.S. Supreme
  Court in 1986 ruled that Georgia's sodomy law, nearly identical to Virginia's, passed
  constitutional muster. In a 5-4 ruling in the case of Bowers v. Hardwick, the high court
  concluded that there is no inherent right to privacy in the language of the Constitution,
  and therefore states may enact sexual prohibitions. 
  Though Justice Lewis F. Powell Jr. later lamented that his vote with the majority was
  "probably a mistake," the ruling is still the Supreme Court's final word on the
  subject of sodomy laws. 
  And yet it has been in the years since the Supreme Court ruling that state courts have
  begun to dismantle such laws. While Powell and his colleagues found no protection for
  sodomites in the federal Constitution, state courts have construed their own state
  constitutions to afford such protections under an implicit right of privacy. 
  The Georgia Supreme Court last year threw out the very sodomy law that the U.S. Supreme
  Court had upheld. In other states, where the laws were aimed at homosexuals—Montana,
  Kentucky and Tennessee, for instance—high courts have also ruled them to be
  unconstitutional invasions of privacy. 
  Ekirch, though, reiterated that, in Roanoke at least, police officers have no interest
  in invading anyone's privacy: They only want to stop individuals from engaging in
  consensual sex in public places. 
  At a court hearing in January, Roanoke's then-chief of vice squad operations, R.E.
  Carlisle, said the same thing. If an officer heard one man solicit oral sex from another
  and the sex was to occur in a public place, the officer would make an arrest, Carlisle
  testified. If, on the other hand, the two men talked about going home to have sex,
  Carlisle said, "it would be appropriate for the officers to confront the two people
  involved in this conversation, inform them that he had overheard the discussion of
  committing an illegal act, and inform them of the law they are about to violate, and warn
  them against it." 
  Garrison said Carlisle's testimony is proof that the state sodomy law threatens every
  adult Virginian. "The commonwealth's own witness made it clear that anybody is truly
  vulnerable to prosecution even if they do it in their home," Garrison said,
  "because what's the point of issuing a warning if there's no threat of
  prosecution." 
  In the cases of the Roanoke defendants who are pleading not guilty, Ekirch is demanding
  jury trials. Not, she said, because she wants to humiliate the defendants, but because
  "it's an issue that our community ought to decide." 
  In neighboring Botetourt County two years ago, there was a sodomy case that Garrison
  said illustrates two points: one, private heterosexual sodomy is just as subject to
  prosecution as homosexual sodomy; and two, the public thinks the sodomy law is outdated. 
  In the Botetourt case, a man named Liniel Gregory III was accused of rape and forcible
  sodomy by a woman who worked at an exotic dance club. Trial testimony disclosed that the
  two had had sex in Gregory's bedroom, and the jury concluded it was not forcible, but
  consensual. The judge instructed the jury to find Gregory guilty of consensual sodomy if
  the evidence warranted. 
  According to one juror, who wrote an open "to whom it may concern" letter
  about the deliberations, the jury was unhappy with having to enforce the sodomy law. 
  "Many of us resented the archaic law and much discussion was held on how it could
  impact each of us," juror Deborah Gilbert wrote. "Nowhere do I remember seeing
  in print that by doing this, it would make him a felon. . . . We felt that his rights were
  being violated." 
  Still, after reading the judge's instructions and recalling that Gregory had freely
  admitted having oral sex with the woman, the jury found him guilty of sodomy. Jurors
  walked out of the deliberating room and announced their verdict and their punishment: a
  fine of $25. 
  The point of the small fine, Gilbert wrote, was "to send a message that we
  disagreed with the law and found it ludicrous and archaic." 
  
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