Tampa Bay remembers Matthew Shepard and Laramie

A pen and a pad can usually get a reporter to the front of the line that's snaked around the corner, but not tonight.


The new Raymond James Theatre on St. Petersburg's Third Street holds 182 spectators. No standing room allowed. No exceptions. It's one of 150 theatres across the country hosting a one-night performance of The Laramie Project Ten Years Later: An Epilogue, an oral history of the 1998 murder of gay college student Matthew Shepard. And I can't make out a word of it.

I'm huddled with six others around a small table in the lobby by the concessions booth, just outside the theatre doors. We're staring at a giant television screen without sound. One tiny ceiling speaker lets an occasional burst of sound escape, but it's quickly drowned out by the blast of air conditioning and the jet engine din of a nearby vacuum cleaner. We watch as four actors read scripts from behind metal podiums standing against the backdrop of rural America.

"I babysat her," the woman next to me says, breaking the silence with a few proud words while pointing at the grainy screen.

Nineteen minutes into the performance, the seven of us are hanging on to the actors' every word, despite not being able to hear a thing.
Maybe I'm destined to not see this show. My brother Scott once played several roles while at Auburn. I remember hearing he played the preacher at Matthew Shepard's funeral.

Shepard, a 21-year-old University of Wyoming student, was beaten and tortured by two homophobic men. Shepard would be found by another student who later testified that the body had resembled a scarecrow. The 20,000 residents of Laramie, Wyoming refused to believe Shepard's sexuality had triggered his murder. It must have been a robbery, a drug deal gone bad. It couldn't have been a hate crime, not in their city.

For the last decade, Congress has stopped short of approving legislation that would federally protect gays under hate crimes law. A North Carolina House representative would even call the story behind Shepard's death a "hoax."

This week the Senate might pass the Matthew Shepard Act, which finds itself bundled with a $700 billion defense spending bill dedicated to buying more missiles, training Afghan security forces and transferring Guantanamo detainees to the states. On the eve of the vote our senators are poised to decide whether the bill should include money to prosecute those who harm someone based on his sexuality, gender or disability. The hate crimes legislation would finally guarantee federal protection for gays.

"It's time for Laramie to come into the 21st century," the faint ceiling speaker belches just before intermission.

Eleven years on, has the attitude of Laramie -- and the country -- changed toward gays?
"I don't know much about the story, and that's why I'm here," says Kelsey Carter, 17, who remained in the lobby through the show's first act.
So far Pres. Obama has promised to repeal the Defense of Marriage Act, yet he's refused to recognize gay marriage. Kudos are due to Calif. Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger, who this week signed into state law a day of recognition (May 22) for equality activist Harvey Milk. Milk was murdered by a fellow politician in 1978. A new law says married gay couples who move to Calif. will not be required to register as domestic partners, despite the state's passage of Proposition 8 last year.

Osceola High School student Nicholas Kemp of the Gay-Straight Alliance hopes Monday's national performances of Ten Years Later will teach his generation to accept people's differences.

"It can inspire everyone else to be who they really are, gay or straight," Kemp says.

"Every year I've become more comfortable with it," says lesbian student Corey Panabaker, who came out to her family and friends four years ago.

"It's who I am. It's what I am."

And then, the 17-year-old student says nothing. Sometimes you don't need to hear words to get the message. Time for Act Two.