A Cry For Justice II: Redemption

By Daniel Cummings

What would you do if, upon arriving home from a hard day's work, you found out that your wife had been brutally raped by someone you knew?

What would you do?

"He put a gun to my head and dragged me into a dark room. He pushed me down on the bed and said, 'If you make a sound, I will kill you.' He then pulled down my pants and raped me."

Rape is a horrible crime. It is a crime that often leaves the victim psychologically scarred for life.

Daniel Cummings is the husband of a rape survivor.

The heinous crime of rape has been perpetrated upon his man's wife, and the culprit is identified by the victim. When the criminal's identity is made known to the agents of law enforcement, it is reasonably expected that justice will be served.

When the culprit has been positively identified as the rapist and those agencies empowered with the authority to arrest the culprit and thereby mete out justice consciously refuse to perform the duties they have been sworn to uphold, citing their own lack of confidence in the process of the justice system as the reason they will not perform their sworn duty, they have, by their own inaction, aligned themselves with the rapist and closed the doors to even a semblance of justice.

What would you do?

What would you do if you discovered that a knife and gun were used to force your wife into submission?

What would you do?

What would you do if, after doing everything that the law dictated a law-abiding citizen should do, all the right things that a traumatized man and wife could possibly endure by reporting the rape, you get slapped in the face with endless contrived humiliation?

What would you do?

Daniel Cummings hasn't been able to sleep. All he can think about is the knife put to his wife's throat, the gun put to her head, and the bloodstains on her pants from vaginal hemorrhaging.

He knows he has to do something.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fulton Books, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 26, 2022
• ISBN: 9781639855223

Daniel Cummings

My name is Daniel Cummings prisoner number AF-4891. I have been locked behind the walls of one of Pennsylvania’s most notorious prisons for over 40 years. I grew up in Jacksonville Florida, my childhood was that of a normal child up to the point of my mother and father’s separation. I am from a family of six sisters and I was my father’s only son. My father was a hard working man who instilled strong family values that I still carry with me today. He was very protective of my mother and (6) sisters. I can still hear and remember the sound of his voice hollering out to me as we were going off to school, “Son take care of your sisters.”After my mother and father’s separation, she struggled to raise seven children the best way that she could. She sent some of us to live with relatives, and some stayed with her. I was sent to live with relatives in Philadelphia, which is where I met my wife. My wife and our children are my life, and all the love and respect for women that my father instilled in me was then, and is still showered upon them, from my childhood, well into my adult years.I was taught to protect my family. My wife is a rape survivor. The night that my wife was drugged and brutally raped, I did not run out looking to find the man who raped her. I did all the things that a law-abiding, tax-paying citizen is supposed to do. I immediately called the Philadelphia Police Department and reported her rape. In the great city of Brotherly Love, I cried out for justice, but the doors of justice was slammed into my face, and I was left feeling like a hopeless voice crying out into the wilderness. Five decades later, I find myself still crying out for Justice.I have been locked behind these walls for over 40 years for doing what I thought was the right thing to do at that time to protect my wife. I felt that I had done all the right things by reporting her rape, but all we got from the Philadelphia Police Department was humiliation. That night I could not sleep, all I could think about was the humiliation we were going through.I could not think straight, my mind just would not stop thinking about the gun that was put to my wife’s head, and the bloodstains that were on her pants from vaginal hemorrhaging. I could not let go of those thoughts.I was crying, she was crying, and nobody wanted to hear us. The pain and grief that my wife was feeling, the terror and anguish that encompassed my household compelled me to action. I had to do something to protect my family from further harm. On August 23, 1972, I entered the home of the individual who raped my wife and I shot him to death. For a number of years, I felt that my actions of taking the life of the man who raped my wife was justified, my radical religious views at that time conditioned me to believe that my actions of defending and protecting my family was what any real man would do.However, through my many years of spiritual growth, I have discarded all notions that such extreme actions are justified. So where do I go from here. I will continue to pursue a commutation, and I will continue to reach out to the public for support, public pressure through letters and phone calls going directly to the governor’s office is what got me my last hearing. The more publicity my case receives, the more support I will get from the public and the more help I receive from the public will have an influence on the Pennsylvania Board of Pardons decision to allow my case to go on before the governor for a reduction of my life sentence to a sentence of life on parole. I need a strong social network following to get the job done.

Book preview

A Cry for Justice II

— REDEMPTION —

DANIEL CUMMINGS

Copyright © 2022 Daniel Cummings

All rights reserved

First Edition

Fulton Books

Meadville, PA

Published by Fulton Books 2022

ISBN 978-1-63985-521-6 (paperback)

ISBN 978-1-63985-522-3 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Ms. Shawn Johnson

No words can express my gratitude and love for Ms. Shawn Johnson the woman who gave me my first job and assist me with my successful re-entry back into society after 48 years of incarceration. Thank You! (Queen)

This is a must-read book.

What would you do when, upon arriving home from a hard day’s work, you found out that your wife had been brutally raped by someone you knew?

What would you do?

He put a gun to my head and put his hand over my mouth. Then he dragged me into a dark room. He pushed me down on the bed and said, ‘If you make a sound, I will kill you.’ He then pulled down my pants and raped me.

What would you do?

What would you do if you discovered that a knife and a gun were used to force your wife into submission?

That night, Daniel Cummings could not sleep. All he could think about was the knife that was put to his wife’s throat, the gun that was put to her head, and the bloodstains on her pants from vaginal hemorrhaging.

He knew he had to do something.

COMMENTS

Rape is a horrible crime—in fact, more horrible than murder. At least, if you’re murdered, you don’t have to live with the thought of the violence that’s been committed against you.

—Counselor, Women Organized Against Rape

I can go back to that awful night as if it were yesterday… It will never be over for me… No matter how much time has gone by… It has a way of sneaking back in and messing you up. The panic attacks and nightmares never really go away. Never!

—Counselor/survivor, Women Organized Against Rape

It was through my seventeen-year-old son that I was made aware of Mr. Cummings. It is frightening that such an occurrence could take place in this country. I am led to believe that my wife or my daughter could be raped and that I could face life imprisonment for a crime committed under extenuating circumstances.

—Command sergeant major

I believe in the laws of our justice department, but giving my father a life sentence for doing what he thought was the right thing to do as a loving father and husband in avenging my mother’s rape, in my opinion, was and still continues to be a bit extreme.

—Crime victim counselor

CONTENTS

Acknowledgments

Introduction

Chapter 1: My Early Years in Jacksonville, Florida

Chapter 2: Boy, Take Care of Your Sisters!

Chapter 3: The Philadelphia Nightlife

Chapter 4: Reds the Dancer

Chapter 5: Uncle Bob Meets the Dancer

Chapter 6: Remove the Filth That Destroyed Her Dignity

Chapter 7: The Point of No Return

Chapter 8: Back in My Dad’s Embrace

Chapter 9: The Compassionate Deputy Sheriff

Chapter 10: The Trial

Chapter 11: Defense and Prosecution Summations

Chapter 12: The Verdict

Chapter 13: A Fork in the Road

Chapter 14: The Geraldo Show

Chapter 15: Confessions and Infidelities

Chapter 16: A Cry for Justice

Chapter 17: Subtle Pockets of Racism

Chapter 18: Victim Now Survivor

Chapter 19: Women Organized Against Rape (WOAR)

Chapter 20: A Message to Politicians

Chapter 21: Redemption

Chapter 22: True Love

Acknowledgments

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to thank my stepson, Marcus, and my daughter, Cecilia, for encouraging me to write my autobiography. It was on one of our family visits when my son suggested with resolve in his voice, Dad, I think that you should write a book. Write the book from your heart, and don’t hold anything back. Say what you mean, and most of all, mean what you say. This is your story, your experience, your journey, which affects our family even today. So dig deep and get the job done.

I would also like to thank my ex-wife, Hilda Cummings, for her support. From day one, she has always encouraged me to never let an opportunity go by where I could have conveyed and communicated our struggle but did not intelligently and diligently do so.

I can still hear the echo of her voice within my being, resounding with her message, Danny, that would be a shame, because you never realize the depth and understanding of people at any given moment. By presenting our reality to them, our plight and struggle have the power to enhance their civility and humanity. If no one knows about our situation, they can’t do anything about it.

She also made me promise that I would never allow myself to become discouraged and fall victim to despair. I promised my wife that I would never allow this prison system to strip me of my dignity.

I would also like to thank all my supporters who have been there for me over the past forty-eight years.

And also thanks to Geraldo Rivera for his continued appreciation and giving my case national exposure.

I would also like to thank my critics, for I have grown from their criticism, especially the young lady counselor who sat at my institutional commutation staffing and arrogantly asked, Mr. Cummings, do you think you are a victim?

My answer is Yes! I am also a victim. The night that my wife was viciously raped, we as a married couple and as a family with children became victims—not just because of the rape, but because of the way that we were treated by the Philadelphia Police Department.

INTRODUCTION

A Spiritual Journey

My birth name is Daniel Cummings, given to me by my father. My nickname is Peta, given to me by my grandfather. My attribute, Ali, was given to me by my spiritual father. Who am I at this moment, in this place and time? I am Daniel Cummings, a spiritual being locked behind the walls of Graterford prison. I have been locked behind these walls for forty-eight years.

I am here for committing a crime that I thought was justified when I could find no other recourse for justice. I am doing a life sentence for taking the life of the man who raped my wife. I grew up in a society with strong moral and spiritual beliefs. Today I can still clearly hear my father’s voice saying, Son, always protect your family. I can also hear my spiritual father’s voice saying, Son, remove the filth that destroyed her dignity. Who am I? I am Ali. I am guided by my spiritual father. Thus, the beginning of my journey.

Was it right for this man to rape my wife? Was it right for me to take his life? What is right, and what is wrong? These are questions I have asked myself through the years. Over the years, I have lost my mother, my father, my only biological son, and all but one of my siblings.

Who am I? Why am I here at this place, at this moment in time? I am still trying to make sense of it all. I have traveled all the spiritual paths but could not find what I was searching for in Christianity. So I turned to Islam but still could not find the peace of mind that I was searching for. Then one Saturday evening, suddenly, I began to experience a strong pull drawing me into the Activities Department, where there was a gathering of students from State College.

At that time, I was taking some college courses, so I thought this was another educational seminar. Upon entering the room, I found my way to the front circle, where there was a picture of this brown-skinned man with an orange cap on and a bright red dot in the middle of his forehead. I sat down next to the student leading the group and began to chant the mantra that was echoing throughout the room: Om Namah Shivaya Om Namah Shivaya. As I continued the chant, my body began to slowly sway in a way that I had never experienced before. Then suddenly a very relaxing, peaceful sensation enveloped my complete being.

I later learned from my spiritual teacher that this experience comes from the mantra’s power to turn one inward. It has the power to calm the mind so that the disciple can focus on God. At that moment, in that place, in this lifetime, I became one with the essence of all creation. Through the quietness of meditation. I found the key to the kingdom.

Be still, and know that I am God (Psalms 46:10).

In all thy ways acknowledge Him and He shall direct thy path (Proverbs 3:6).

The kingdom of God is within you (Luke 17:21).

The master teacher with keys to all the mansions, Christ Jesus, said, Ask and it shall be given to you, seek and you shall find: knock, and it shall be opened unto you (Matthew 7:7).

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God (St. John 1:1).

Thank you, heavenly Father, for the gift of your Word through the earthly bodies of Sister Iyanla Vanzant, Siddha yoga meditation teachers Swami Muktananda and Gurumayi Chidvilasananda. Grace is the divine will that intends to dissolve concealment. It allows liberation and overcomes suffering. The struggle is over. I have found peace with my destiny.

I have always been much better at writing my feelings than verbally expressing them. I remember my wife saying to me, Honey, whenever an opportunity presents itself to tell someone about our struggle, speak up. Don’t worry about how your articulation comes across. As long as it is the truth, it will have an effect on the right people.

I seized that moment with one of the professors who came in from Villanova to teach a class in English enlightenment. The professor gave me an A on the following essay, which I will use as the introduction to my autobiography:

When the United States of America established laws by which a humane society would be governed, they did so with a two-fold purpose—to protect the freedom and property of individual citizens and relieve its citizenry of the responsibility of meting out retributive justice.

The law of this land decrees that when a person commits a crime, he must be punished. Many people are and many people are not. What determines if you are punished and to what extent you are punished is who you are, commonly known as a double standard of justice.

A few months ago, 60 Minutes highlighted the problems of kidnapping, rape, and prostitution in Asia. Bangladeshi and Bermese women were kidnapped, raped, and forced into prostitution by Pakistani brothers.

I must say that this is a problem that definitely needs to be addressed and kept in the public eye. However, this issue should not be prejudiced by restricting it to Pakistan. It is a well-known fact that not so long ago, the same problem took place in Bosnia and, in fact, was depicted on a much larger scale. Rape camps were found by the United Nations intelligence and peacekeeping forces.

The United States is quick to point the finger of shame at other nations regarding this problem. We cannot afford to overlook the fact that we also have a major problem with rape in our own country.

My reason for highlighting this subject and using it as an essay is that it hits close to home. I am sure that by now you are wondering where I am going with this essay, so before I go any further, I want to first thank you for coming into this godforsaken place to teach us—society’s so-called scum, murderers, rapists, and thieves—something about human behavior.

Such teachings from a college perspective is a first for me, and I assure you that I enjoyed every class. Professor, I know that the focus of my essay is supposed to be on Apollonian, Dionysian models of human behavior, but I hope you don’t mind that I am using this opportunity to express some of my personal problems with hopes that you as a college professor and admitted feminist might lend a sympathetic ear in support of my situation.

As I said, I know that this is not related to the subject you taught and assigned to us, but in a way, it is, because my situation deals with human behavior and a double standard of justice for minorities within our criminal justice system. So if you will bear with me, I would like to tell you something about our society and the crime of rape.

When the heinous crime of rape has been perpetrated upon a man’s wife and the culprit has been identified by the victims and the identity has been made known to the agents of law enforcement, it is reasonably expected that justice will occur.

When the culprit has been positively identified as the rapist, the harm doer to the victim, and those agents empowered with the authority to arrest the culprit and thereby mete out justice refuse to perform the duty they have been sworn to uphold, citing their own lack of confidence in the processes of the judicial system as the reason they will not perform their sworn duty, they have, by their own inaction, aligned themselves with the rapist and closed the doors of justice.

Once the doors of justice have been slammed into the face of a state citizen, there is no recourse for a reasonable man who must day and night hear the cries of his wife as she pleads for justice, asking for this unwanted violation of her person to be rectified.

A husband is not only a laborer but is also the primary protector of his household, thus the action taken upon the perpetrator of this heinous crime was not, is not, murder. Rather, it was what any reasonable man in human society would do—that is, to protect his wife, his family, his household.

What would you do if, upon arriving home from a hard day’s work, you find out that your wife had been brutally raped by someone you know?

What would you do?

What would you do if you found out that a knife and a gun were used to force your wife into submission?

What would you do?

I knew that I had to do something.

CHAPTER 1

My Early Years in Jacksonville, Florida

Mama! Mama! Daddy’s here!

I was awakened by the sound of my sister’s voices, hollering like wild hyenas—Mama’s favorite words when all six of my sisters were talking at the same time.

Please stop that hollering! You girls sound like a bunch of wild hyenas! she would say.

I slowly rolled over and smiled to myself because I knew that today would be a special fun-filled day. My dad drove over to get me every weekend. Sometimes he would take all of us shopping or to the fair if one was in town.

I could smell the aroma of Mama’s bacon, but I was still playing like I was sleeping. I wanted my dad to wake me up the way that he always did. I heard his voice as he questioned in a playful but strong manner, Where is that boy of mine?

My sister hollered, He is still sleeping, Daddy!

The bright early morning sunlight shined through as he opened the door to my room.

Boy! Daddy said. Get your butt out of that bed if you plan on going with me.

I slowly rolled out of bed, stretching my arms, yawning like I was just waking up.

And make sure you brush your teeth, Stinky Breath! he yells.

We both smiled as he gave me a big hug and a kiss.

Peta! Mom was calling me again.

Peta was my nickname given to me by Grandaddy. Mom said he gave me that name because I never wanted to wear any clothes and I was always running around the house butt naked with my li’l Peter dangling. So he started calling me Peta.

Okay, Mama, I’m coming, I said as I put my dungarees on and ran for the bathroom, hoping that none of my sisters were in there.

My sisters were at the table with Daddy, and my older sisters were helping Mama cook breakfast. I could hear all my sisters trying to talk at the same time.

Daddy, are you taking all of us with you today?

Daddy, did Mama show you my report card?

Daddy, I got all As and Bs.

Daddy, my birthday is coming up!

Mom was right. They did sound like a bunch of wild hyenas.

After breakfast, Mama and Daddy did what they always did every time he came over to get me.

He would say, Boy, you go outside and play for a while.

They thought that we didn’t know what was going on, but we did. Mommy and Daddy were doing it.

After some time, Daddy hollered out to us again, Boy! Are you ready to go?

Yeah, Daddy. I’m waiting for you, I answered.

Daddy would give Mom a kiss and hug and then kiss my sisters. Then we were out the door. I always wondered why Daddy was not living with us anymore. He would only come home on the weekends.

Daddy, why don’t you live with us anymore? I asked.

What you mean, boy? I’m here every weekend.

Yeah, Daddy, but you don’t live with us anymore, I said.

Well, son, we will talk about it sometime but not now, he replied.

Okay, Dad, I answered quickly, focusing my mind on something else, and jumped into his big Lincoln. Daddy, I will be fourteen years old real soon. What are you getting me for my birthday?

Boy, birthdays are special. Don’t you want it to be a surprise?

Okay, Daddy.

Time passed quickly with my dad. We drove up to Aunt Lizzie and Uncle Charles’s home. My dad got out, and I jumped over to the driver’s seat. I always felt much older when I was with my dad. Sure would be glad when I was old enough to drive.

Daddy rang the doorbell and hollered through the screen door, Liz, it’s me. Is Charles in?

"Hey, Dan! No, Charles is not here. Come on in. You got li’l Dan Junior with you? You better come on in here and let me see that boy. Look at him. Gimme a hug, boy. You look just like your daddy. Just look at you all grown up. How old are you