Abortion Doctor Murder


In my last blog, I wrote about my relationship with Mr. Guy Condon, an anti-abortion activist who ran a number of crisis pregnancy centers across the country.  I noted that we had been brought together by an organization called “Common Ground,” which has since closed its doors.

The folks at Common Ground had a very ambitious and, yes, “sexy” agenda.  Their goal was to bring together parties on both sides of controversial issues in an effort to find areas of possible agreement.  So, for example, with the abortion issue, they tried to craft an agreement on how to reduce the number of abortions.   I don’t think they ever succeeded in that particular quest but for a while, this group was much in vogue, they got tons of publicity and lots of money from certain foundations.  Ultimately, however, they were forced to shut their doors.  Honestly, I don’t know what happened and I don’t have the energy to try to research the rise and fall of Common Ground.  Suffice it to say that they are gone.

What many people never realized, however, was that every day there were similar efforts taking place on a smaller scale at the abortion clinics.  No, anti-abortion and pro-choice folks were not sitting down and hashing out peace agreements or crafting joint legislation.   But activists on both sides of the abortion issue were talking and have been talking for years.

The dynamic at an abortion clinic is fascinating.   Generally speaking, the clinic staff people will arrive at the same time and they always know when their local protestors will be out there.  Saturday is usually the biggest day as more women are able to get away from work to have an abortion.  Normally, you would think that the staffers would just walk in and exchange harsh glances or even harsh words with the protestors.   And, yes, in some cases the two sides just didn’t talk and, indeed, there was great animosity.  But there were so many other instances where the clinic staff developed some kind of relationship with their protestors.

Over the years, clinic staffers would tell me how they would bring coffee out to their protestors on cold, winter days or ice tea in the middle of the summer.  Others would actually invite their protestors into the clinic for a tour of the facility.  Several clinic administrators told me that on occasion they would have lunch with the lead protestor in an effort to develop a mutual understanding of their work.  Some clinic staff told me that they would have conversations with the director of the local anti-abortion crisis pregnancy center and even refer women to them if they felt it would be helpful.   It was as if there was a general truce at these clinics and even a curiosity about that person on the other side of the fence.

I’ve already talked about how my relationship with Paul Hill might have saved the lives of a number of abortion providers in Pensacola in 1994.   Of course, no one can prove that talking to the other side might prevented some kind of tragedy but many of the clinic administrators (or doctors) who regularly engaged with “the enemy” told me that the conversations resulted in a less tense environment outside the clinic.  They said that after the protestors got to understand a little more about what motivated the clinic workers and the mindset of the women, the protestors were inclined to be less “angry.”

The fact is that activists on this controversial issue, and that includes abortion clinic staff, are usually pretty myopic when it comes to listening to arguments from the other side.   They usually just listen to their leaders of their own movements, cite their studies, and regurgitate their talking points.  They think that the other side could not possibly have anything meaningful to say, that they are all just out to lunch.  So, both sides stick their heads in the sand, become intractable and, as a consequence, the tensions increase.

But because of the bravery of some people on both sides of the issue, peace broke out years ago at some of the clinics that slowed abortion providers and protestors to continue their work in a less-than-hostile environment.

In that regard, I think “Common Ground” worked.

In the mid-1990’s, as a staff person for the National Coalition of Abortion Providers, I met a young, affable man named Guy Condon.  Guy was the Executive Director of Care Net, a chain of anti-abortion “crisis pregnancy centers” that were located in all parts of the country.

Yes, Guy was the enemy.

And, about a year later, his wife reserved for me a space in the front pew at their church for his funeral service.

Guy and I met as part of a national effort called “Common Ground,” a well-funded organization that brought together adversaries on controversial topics in the hopes of reaching a mutual understanding or, in rare cases, agreement, on certain issues.   In my case, I was asked to join a group of three pro-choicers and three pro-lifers around a table to talk once a month.   As you can imagine, the meetings were very tense at first, as the years and years of hatred made it difficult to trust the process or to not think you were being set up.  Still, I basically trust people so I jumped right in.  From the beginning, I shocked everyone (including my “side”) by candidly addressing the tough issues on abortion (as I do in this blog on a regular basis).  Guy reacted well to my approach and he followed suit.

We continued our conversations over the phone, on line, in separately arranged lunches.  He admitted to me that he was very concerned that some of the other crisis pregnancy centers were luring women into their facilities under false pretenses or giving them incorrect information.  He invited me to visit his centers, which I did, and, unless they were very clever, I got the clear sense that these folks really just wanted to help women in their time of need.  And the help that they offered extended after the women decided to have a child in the form of job counseling, computer training, day care at reduced fees, etc.  Sure, they couldn’t take care of the kid from cradle to grave, but at least they were trying to help.

Meanwhile, I talked to Guy about our clinics, about why women came to us, their decision making process, what motivated our doctors to provide abortions.  Eventually, after months of conversations, he told me that he wanted to write an article for “Christianity Today” about our relationship and asked my permission, which I readily gave.  I didn’t even ask him what he was going to write, I trusted him that much.  Still, he volunteered that he wanted to convey how I had made him understand more about the abortion process and the women who were in that difficult situation.

Two days later, Guy Condon was killed in a car accident, leaving behind three beautiful girls and his wife.

When I heard the news, I was stunned.  I was equally shocked when I got a call from Guy’s assistant  who invited me to his funeral.  I struggled for a day, knowing that if I went I would be surely going into some kind of “lion’s den” of pro-life leaders.  And what would my pro-choice colleagues think when they heard I had attended the funeral?   Surely, I could not explain to all of them that we had been friends.  Ultimately, however, I decided our friendship came first, not the politics of abortion, so that Saturday morning, I drove out to Manassas to the funeral.

As I entered the church and looked around, it felt like I had entered the National Right to Life Annual Meeting.  I quickly noticed Joe Scheidler, one of the founders of the protest movement, and Father Frank Pavone, the head of Priests for Life.  I didn’t know what to do or where to go, how to act, whether or not to make eye contact.   Ultimately, however, someone rescued me and escorted me through the crowd to the front pew.  I was dizzy, I felt all of those eyes on me and I started to wonder if I had done the right thing.

After the ceremony, a reception line formed and I got in line, trying to think of what I would say to his wife.  When I got up to her and extended my hand, I stumbled.   “Hi, my name is Pat Richards and I knew Guy…”   Before I could explain my relationship with Guy, his wife hugged me and said “Oh, Pat, he talked about you all the time!”   I started to cry.   I am almost in tears at this very moment thinking of her gracious welcome.  Then, I shook the hands of his three children and one of them said “My Daddy said you were very funny.”   I totally lost it.

I made it to the punch and cookies table and was surrounded by the pro-life movement.  They were all thanking me for coming, but I didn’t know them and  couldn’t trust them.  But I trusted Guy and that’s why I was there.  I practically ran outside to my car and broke down.

Almost one year ago, Doctor George Tiller was murdered in Wichita, Kansas.  This event garnered national headlines and this week pro-choice groups are honoring his memory.   I knew George Tiller well and have already expressed my thoughts about him (see above).    But a few months after he was killed, another pro-choice leader died and her death did not attract as much attention as Doctor Tiller’s murder.   Her name was Susan Hill.

The first time I saw Susan Hill was at a meeting of the Board of Directors of the National Abortion Rights Action League.  When she walked into a room, she literally lit up the place.  A vivacious blond with a warm southern accent, she could charm the heck out of you.  But if you crossed her, she could cut your lungs out.

Susan was the owner of several abortion clinics scattered throughout the country.  For the most part, she placed her clinics in areas where women needed access to abortion services, places like Fargo, North Dakota, Fort Wayne, Indiana and Jackson, Mississippi.  Ultimately, because they were so isolated, these clinics became the target of very intense anti-abortion activity.  I still have a picture in my mind of Susan,  in high heels and short skirt, standing defiantly in front of the doorway of her Fort Wayne clinic facing hundreds of protestors who were blocking access to her clinic.  Meanwhile, her clinic in Fargo was regularly covered in the national press because of the constant protests, death threats, bombings and other forms of harassment.

Years after I met her at NARAL, she asked me if I would help form the National Coalition of Abortion Providers.  Her reasoning was that, while there were other pro-choice groups in Washington, D.C., the abortion providers needed their own person on Capitol Hill representing their particular interests.  As she often said to me, “the groups are great at defending ‘choice,’ but when it comes to abortion they disappear pretty quickly.”

Working through NCAP, Susan and several other key abortion providers helped pass the first federal law protecting doctors, staff and women seeking access to abortion.  Indeed, when President Clinton signed the Freedom of Access to Clinic Entrances Act into law, she was there.   When the bullets started flying,  Susan bravely became a face of the providers, never shying away from going on a television show to talk (proudly) about what she did for a living.   She testified before the Congress, she met with the Attorney General to demand protection for her and her colleagues, and she put her money where her mouth was, always ready to make a contribution to a pro-choice cause.

She had one of the finest political minds of anyone I’ve ever met.  But we wouldn’t just talk about politics.  We talked about baseball (she was once married to a professional player), movies, books and even our love lives.  She was a brilliant strategist and an above average golfer.  And she could demonstrate a heart of gold.  When my father died a few days before Easter, I drove down to Myrtle Beach for the ceremony and stopped at her house on the way back home.  Knowing I had been preoccupied over the last few days, she presented me with two Easter baskets for my young boys.

About twenty years ago, her twin sister, Nancy, died of breast cancer.  It was a terrible experience for Susan and she literally disappeared for two years helping Nancy through the ordeal.  Then, about two years ago, I got the horrible news that Susan had contracted the same deadly disease.  Unfortunately, she cut off all communication with her friends for fear that the anti-abortion movement would find out that she was dying and try to exploit the situation.  As far as I know, they never found out.   Unfortunately, that meant that I never got the chance to say goodbye to my dear old friend.

Goodbye, my friend.

One of my dearest friends in the world is Doctor Leroy Carhart.  Doctor Carhart is a physician who performs abortions in the tiny hamlet of Bellevue, Nebraska.   He has been doing abortions for decades – and, I should add, he has been doing late term abortions over those years.  In the last ten years or so, he became an outspoken advocate for abortion rights and, in fact, years ago he challenged the “Partial Birth Abortion Act,” a case that ultimately made it all the way to the U.S. Supreme Court.

In addition to working in Nebraska, for years Doctor Carhart had been traveling to Wichita, Kansas where he helped out Doctor George Tiller, a specialist in very late term abortions.  As we all know by now, Doctor Tiller was murdered almost one year ago and soon thereafter, his clinic – his beautiful clinic – was shut down.

But Lee Carhart came to the rescue.   Within hours of the murder, he was proudly announcing to the media that he would take over the late term abortion doctor mantle in order to help all of those women who normally would have gone to Doctor Tiller.  He was all over the media, he started giving more speeches, and he pumped up his website.  For good reason, he was applauded for his courage and his loyalty to his dear, departed friend.

A few weeks after Doctor Tiller’s murder, I caught up with Lee at a memorial service in Washington, D.C.  He shared some wonderful thoughts with the crowd and afterwards I was escorted to a private room to see him.  It had been years, so we had a good hug, a few tears were shed and then I looked him directly in the eye and said “Lee, shut the hell up.”

He was incredulous.  For years, working through the National Coalition of Abortion Providers, I encouraged him (and his colleagues) to speak openly about what he did, to no longer hide in the shadows anymore.   My argument was that if abortion doctors were open about what they did and talked honestly about their work, then it would prevent the anti-abortion movement from filling in the information gap with their own distorted interpretation of things.  So, Lee started talking – and talking and talking.  Ultimately, he became one of our leading spokesmen.

But now I was telling him to shut up.

“Lee,” I said as I put my hands on his shoulders, “you now have a lot of patients that are relying on you.  You need to be here for them.  But when you go on television, you’re making yourself a target for some nut ball out there who might get the notion of taking out the next George Tiller.”

He was a little stunned at first and, as he often does, he started mumbling about how he understood what I was saying but….

“But what?” I screamed.  “You’ve got an obligation to thousands of women and to George Tiller.  You need to be there every day for your patients.   You cannot go around making speeches everywhere, walking through crowds.  You’re gonna get yourself shot, Lee, and I don’t want to have to come to another memorial service.”

He listened but I don’t think he heard me.

And yesterday I saw an announcement that he will be speaking at the national conference for the National Organization for Women in Boston in a few weeks.

Oh well…..Go get ’em, Lee.

A few days ago, a judge in Omaha, Nebraska gave permission to a 17 year old girl to have an abortion.  Not sure why it was a story, but…

For many years, the United States Supreme Court has said that states can require minors to get the permission of their parents or at least notify them before getting an abortion.    I have argued in previous blogs against these laws.  However, the Supreme Court also said that, if the state enacts these laws, then they also have to give the minor the option of getting permission from a judge.  And that’s what happened in this case.

The Supreme Court made it sound so very simple.  Well, little girl, if you really cannot talk to your parents, then all you have to do is go to a judge.

Let’s think about this for a second.

Take your average 14 year old girl.  She – unfortunately – gets pregnant.  I’m not going to get into chastising her, feeling sorry for her or whatever.  The fact is that she is pregnant and she does not want to have the child.  Sounds pretty responsible to me (yes, I know she was “irresponsible” to begin with, but…).    The problem is that her parents are pretty strict.  No, let’s say they are extremely religious and the girl knows that if she tells them she is pregnant, they’ll practically kill her.  She would ruin everything for her parents.  Now, if you are anti-abortion person please don’t give me that crap that the girl should go to her parents anyway and they’ll work it out.  In real life, unfortunately, every family is not perfect.

So, the girl has determined that she wants an abortion but cannot go to her parents.  But, wait, there’s an easy alternative!   You just have to go to a judge!

So, the young girl decides to pursue that option.  Well, how does a 14 year old girl find a judge?  In fact, as I think about that scenario, I frankly haven’t the foggiest idea how you would get that process started.  And I’m not a 14 year old girl or one of her friends.  Where do you find a judge?  Are there special judges for abortion cases?  What would be your Google search terms?

Ultimately, you might get lucky and discover that several pro-choice groups have lawyers that help women through this difficult process.  So, you talk to someone and they say they’ll help.

The girl then has to sit down with the pro-choice attorney and probably some other staff to discuss her situation.  She has to be prepared to talk about why she cannot go to her parents.  Think of how embarrassing this process is for her, even when she is in friendly territory.

Then, she finally has to go to court.  Have you ever been in court?  Did you not feel intimidated by the whole process?   Now, think about the 14 year old girl, going downtown to the big, marbled courthouse with hundreds of people running around in suits.  Think about walking into the cavernous courtroom, sitting there with the bailiff, the court reporter and possibly others waiting silently for the judge to come in.  The judge sits down and calls your case.  Think about the young girl walking up to the bench and having to talk about how she is mature enough to get the abortion.   That requirement always killed me:   the girl has to prove that she is mature enough to have the abortion but if the judge determines she is not mature enough, then the assumption is that she is “mature” enough to have the baby.

It’s always easy for some legislator in some state to get up and pontificate on what the law should be.  In this case, it’s easy to argue about this “judicial bypass” requirement as if it is such an easy thing for a young woman to do.

Get real, will ya?

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