Richard Williams

Richard Williams, Presente!
anti-imperialist, revolutionary
1947 - 2005

ppsolidarity

Richard Williams

Richard Williams exemplifies the best of our movements. He was a warrior who never stopped struggling for a better world.

He was a father and grandfather, originally from Beverly, Massachusetts, former chairperson of the New England Prisoner Association (in the early '70s), former member of the New England Free Press (a radical print shop) and Prairie Fire Organizing Committee, and one of the organizers of the Amandla "Festival of Unity" Concert in Harvard Stadium in July of 1979 featuring Bob Marley and the Wailers (a benefit concert to provide aid to the African National Congress and other liberation forces in Southern Africa). He was also active during the struggle for equal education for Black and Latino children in Boston in the '70s (aka the "busing crisis").

Richard Williams spent more than 20 years in federal prisons after being convicted based on actions claimed by the United Freedom Front taken to protest the covert U.S. war in Central America in the 1980s and the apartheid regime in South Africa, and in support of the Puerto Rican independence movement, and liberation movements in Southern Africa and Central America, including the ANC and the Sandinistas.

Richard was captured in Cleveland in 1984, becoming one of the "Ohio 7." Richard was convicted in federal court for five political bombings targeting the U.S. military and corporations profiting from South African apartheid (in which no one was harmed). In 1991, Richard was convicted, after an earlier trial resulted in a hung jury, of being an accomplice in the killing of a NJ state trooper during a highway shoot out. After September 11th, 2001, Richard was held in isolation, without explanation, for more than 8 months. This was the same time period that his lawyer, Lynne Stewart, was herself was targeted by Attorney General Ashcroft under the USA-PATRIOT Act. Richard suffered a heart attack in February 2002.

After more than two decades in federal prisons, Richard was in increasingly poor health due to Hep C and complications that surfaced after his cancer treatment last year. He died while at the Federal Medical Center in Butner, North Carolina on December 7, 2005.

Financial contributions for Richard's family can be sent to:

    Jericho Movement
    P.O. Box 774
    Bronx, NY 10458

contents



Richard Williams, in his own words

I am a single father and grandfather. I was born on November 4, 1947, in Beverly, Massachusetts, which is a small coastal city 25 miles north of Boston. My mother was a factory worker and seamstress and my father was a machine operator. I have one sister younger than me by six years. Just when the draft was getting heavy for Vietnam I turned 18 years old and promptly received my notice. Like most working class kids, white or Black, there was no easy way out of it. Either get drafted, join, or hide. I chose not to go. At 20 years old I was arrested for having marijuana, which in Massachusetts was a felony. Given the choice of six months in jail or joining the army, I went to jail in 1967 and became ineligible for the draft.

I continued to have brushes with the law when in 1971 I was arrested for robbery in New Hampshire and received a seven-to-15-year sentence. I was 23 and faced five solid years in jail, at the least. I ealized at that time that I was going nowhere fast, that I needed to change something—so I started with myself. I became involved with trying to better the prison conditions I was in, which were deplorable. It was 1971, the year George Jackson was murdered, the year of the Attica Rebellion. There was unrest in most prisons, because overall the prisons were brutal and inhumane. I was elected chairperson of the New England Prisoner Association. Inside, I met with legislators, and participated in food and work strikes and protests for better conditions. I read a lot of history and worked in political study groups. I was locked up, beaten, and shipped out for my activities. I learned through study and my efforts that the struggle was much larger than my then surroundings. I became a communist.

Upon my release I worked briefly with the Prairie Fire Organizing Committee. I went to work for the New England Free Press—a radical, collective print shop—for almost 2 years. Along with Barbara, Jaan, and Kazi, I was part of The Amandla Concert in Harvard Stadium in 1979. Featuring Bob Marley, Amandla was a benefit concert to provide aid to liberation forces in Southern Africa. My role was as part of a People’s Security Force which provided security for the concert. We also did security work for the community—such as house sitting with people who were under attack by racists. We went to Greensboro, North Carolina in 1979 to protest the killings of SWP (Socialist Workers Party) members by the KKK.

I went underground to join the armed clandestine movement in 1981 and was captured in Cleveland on November 4th, 1984, my 37th birthday.

I was convicted for five of the United Freedom Front (UFF) bombings in 1986 in Brooklyn Federal Court. In 1987 I got a hung jury at the Somerville, N.J. trial in the death of a state trooper during a shoot-out with Tom Manning. Next I went through a two-year long trial in Springfield, Mass., along with Pat and Ray Levasseur, in 1988 and 1989 for seditious conspiracy and RICO. The jury refused to convict us. In December 1991, I was convicted of killing state trooper Lomonco in 1981 after my second trial on these charges in Somerville, N.J. I am to serve 45 years for the UFF actions when I finish serving my N.J. sentence of 35 years to life. As with all dedicated revolutionaries the government has caught they have tried to bury my body away in prison, while being unable to crush my spirit.

Long Live Revolutionary Resistance to Imperialism and Capitalism!

(from Can't Jail the Spirit, 4th edition, March 1998)

Richard Williams esta presente!

by Ray Levesseur, Ohio 7 anti-imperialist former political prisoner, now free

The first time I met our comrade Richard Williams was in a safe house, underground. For the next decade we engaged in a common struggle to provide whatever support we could muster to the downpressed - be they victims of apartheid in South Africa, or slaughtered in Central America - and to defend ourselves. It wasn’t until the last hour of the last trial that we were consigned by our enemy to different prisons. I would never see him again.

Richard, like many political prisoners, has never received the recognition and respect he deserves. He has been vilified in the media and ignored by the left - a shared experience by many political prisoners. But then, Richard never sought accolades. The brother I know is not ego-driven nor laden with grandiose ideas about what others should march to. He has at his essence that uncommon quality of a revolutionary - feeling every injustice done to the poor and working people of this planet.

I know Richard well, having risked our lives together time after time. He never waivered when confronted with danger, and didn’t disappoint when demands upon us were critical. I’ve seen him act decisively when it took courage to step up, and step down in situations that required defusing. He’s all of that - a people’s soldier and friend.

A man of deep commitment and fi ery passion, he dedicated his life to others. The fallout from that was not being able to see his own children during the most dangerous years. He made that sacrifi ce, but the longing for his kids was intense and it laid heavy in his heart.

Sacrifice. How deep the sacrifice for what we believe true and necessary? When the U.S. killing fi elds in Central America were littered with the bodies of compaňeros and their children, Richard did not stand idly by. When apartheid drenched South Africa in the blood and suffering of African people, Richard chose to act. The lineage from prison and antiracist activist to underground guerilla is not difficult to figure - Richard has the heart, consciousness, and political perspective to take it to a brutal enemy.

He did it in his time, when time was of the essence. When he knew he had the strength and endurance for a protracted and extraordinarily difficult struggle. That time has now past.

The brother I know, who withstood 50,000 volt stun gun assaults and the rigors of solitary confinement, has fallen. This brother of such infectiously good humor, so respectful of elders, and without a cynical bone in his body, is dead. He chose to pass on in as dignifi ed a way as possible given the inherently abusive conditions of his confinement. They never crushed his spirit.

Brother, I do not say goodbye, for there are no words for this in the language we know best. Until next time - among oak leaves, the feathers of a hawk, nurturing new life from a coral reef .... I love you, Ray.

Ray Luc Levasseur, December 8, 2005

(from Prison Art Newsletter, Volume 6, Number 1 (January, 2006) - PDF


My Friend Richard Williams

by Jaan Laaman, Ohio 7 anti-imperialist political prisoner

Richard Charles Williams, my dear brother, my comrade, I could write a book or maybe a screen play about you and your life. It would be a righteous movie, action packed, principled, some real humor, and all built around a life of struggle and hope. Of course between revolutionary "need to know" principles, and Hollywood's comicbook propaganda movies, it's not too likely your real movie is going to get made just yet. But your revolutionary life, your warm, good heart, and your determined Spirit of Resistance will continue to inspire and guide those of us who know you and all those who will yet come to know you.

From our earliest days, 34-35 years ago, working together, struggling and having each other's back, I remember how seriously you took the words of Che Guevara and how you admired his life. You know I've always thought of you as embodying the true living spirit of Che. While you have consistently been reasoned and practical in strategic outlook, you have always been willing to pick up the struggle of oppressed nations and peoples anywhere in the world. You are a true anti-imperialist and humanitarian. Your entire adult life is a solid expression of the real meaning of Proletarian Internationalism. And if anyone is not familiar with these terms - go do a little investigating. It's not only to see what kind of man Richard has been his whole life, but this world needs new and more socialists and revolutionaries in the 21st century ----- you could be one.

Besides the labels and "isms," if I had to briefly tell you about Richard, I 'd say he is a very nice and regular person. Someone you would want to be your friend and fellow worker.

For me personally, I have no dearer friend or closer comrade than Richard. We were there for each other's childrens' home births, and we put in some hours on pinball machines in quite a few clubs and pubs. Yeah, you mostly were the pinball champ! From construction sites (Richard's a good carpenter) to picket lines, and yes, battle lines too, I feel proud and honored to have shared these with you, my comrade, my brother, my friend.

Jaan Laaman, Ohio 7 anti-imperialist political prisoner
Walpole State Prison
December 2, 2005

Jaan Laaman
W41514
Box 100
South Walpole, MA 02071

To the friends and comrades of Richard Williams

by LA-ABCF

With a heavy heart, we are saddened by the news that political prisoner Richard Williams has passed away. Many of Richard’s supporters agree with his friend and comrade, Diane Fujino, that his problems stemmed from the 15 months of isolation he faced after 9/11. The State was tireless in its efforts to break his spirit and his will. His body, no longer able to stay as strong as his spirit, began to weaken under the pressure of captivity.

For those who are not aware of Richard, his death ended 26 years of imprisonment. He was sentenced to life for actions carried out in support of those who suffered under apartheid regime and the paramilitary death squads in Central and South America. He targeted those responsible for the death and torture of the innocent. His love was so deep for the people of the world; resistance was the only option against those who oppressed. He lived in resistance so that others can experience a moment of life.

His life was defi ned by his continuous struggle. The fl ame in his heart burned bright for the oppressed and colonized. His spirit, dedicated to the struggle for freedom and humanism in every corner of the world, inspired us all to follow his lead. His sacrifi ce for the struggle of liberty and resistance everywhere humbled those of us who found ourselves in his shadow. We who knew him count our blessings for the moments we shared.

Our sadness is only relieved by the knowledge that our comrade will be met by the likes of Steven Biko, Bobby Sands, Pedro Albizu Campos and others who struggle against oppression. We have to accept that such a man could only walk among us for a brief moment in time. A candle can only burn so long before the light is forced to go out.

Richard went through life with open arms but closed fi sts; prepared to embrace the world but fi ght for what is right and just. Richard can now relax his fi sts. It is time for us to close ours.

Amandla, LA-ABCF

Los Angeles Anarchist Black Cross Federation

For more info on Richard Williams see:

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- Jericho Boston - jericho_boston (at) yahoo.com -
- P.O. Box 1057, Jamaica Plain, MA 02130 -