An issue that plagued me considerably last year has recently resurfaced with the addition of wide receiver Donté Stallworth to the roster of the NFL’s Baltimore Ravens. Stallworth, who nabbed passes for the Cleveland Browns during the 2008 season, was arrested in March of 2009 and charged with DUI manslaughter after hitting 59-year-old Mario Reyes. This event garnered a modest amount of media coverage and paled in comparison to the circus surrounding the Michael Vick case. It’s this disparity in coverage and, more specifically, public outrage that’s at the root of my dismay.
Vick, as we’re all well aware, pleaded guilty to funding, operating and taking part in dog fighting, most notably the inhumane killing of six to eight underachieving dogs with two of his accomplices, according to court documents.
Stallworth had been doing 50 in a 40 with his Blood Alcohol Content at more than 0.12. Reyes was rushing to catch a bus after work when he was struck by Stallworth’s Bentley. (In his defense, Stallworth thoughtfully flashed his lights several times before plowing into Reyes.)
I can understand the severity of Vick’s punishment — nearly two years and perhaps nine figures’ worth — but I’m absolutely dumbfounded with regards to the leniency Stallworth received. Reyes was deemed partially at fault for not being in a crosswalk, and there was further leniency shown toward Stallworth for both flashing his lights and being compliant with officers and taking full responsibility for the crash. First of all, instead of flashing his lights, why did he not, I don’t know, try swerving and slamming on his brakes? After all, he wasn’t driving a Toyota. Secondly, why is he being rewarded for simply not making things worse? Owning up to one’s actions should not be considered going “above and beyond.” (What could he have done otherwise, pull a Jamie Foxx and blame it on the alcohol?) I mean, if I go out to get plastered tonight and smash into somebody driving home, I’m toast; it’s a wrap for me. The only thing I’ll have to worry about is not fumbling the soap, followed by a long, lonely stint working at CVS until I’m eighty.
All said and done, Vick served nearly a month of mixed incarceration (federal, state and house arrest) for every day Stallworth served in jail — 23 months versus 24 days.
So on one hand we have Vick, who’s largely considered to be the Animal Antichrist, and on the other we have Stallworth, who, well, doesn’t really have any sort of stigma weighing him down. This inconsistency can’t simply be a function of their pre-incident status — no, not in the same country that has rocketed to stardom the likes of Sarah Palin, Speidi and Mario Lopez. Moreover, Stallworth’s accident is precisely the kind of event for which he could be remembered in infamy, and yet he remains under the radar. Where’s the trial by fire we’ve grown accustom to? It was ruthlessly easy in Vick’s case given the animals involved, but there was relative silence when it was a person whom Stallworth killed. Do Vick’s 2.33 dogs really overshadow Stallworth’s single person?
It seems the word “accident” is likely the root of the problem here. Vick’s actions are seen as manifestations of some inner malevolence representative of Vick himself. Stallworth’s “accident,” on the other hand, is seen as a product of circumstance. However, if I were to claim Vick’s actions were direct results of his upbringing and culture, I would be bombarded with retorts about choice, responsibility, etc. Similarly, Stallworth must be held to the same standard, especially given the fact that he was in a position to have a driver for every time he left his home, let alone every time he drank. He literally invites this event to happen, albeit not specifically with Reyes, and ends up more or less getting a free pass — he is who we thought he was, and we let him off the hook.
