THE
CASE
AGAINST
those
accused
of
murdering
transgender
teenager
Gwen
Araujo
ended
in
mistrial,
leaving
in
limbo
the
fate
of
her
alleged
killers
—
and
Gwen’s
family.
This
crime
has
touched
me
personally
from
the
beginning.
Because
of
my
work
on
the
project
called
Remembering
Our
Dead
and
on
the
Transgender
Day
of
Remembrance,
I
initially
followed
this
death
in
the
same
fashion
as
300
other
cases
I
have
chronicled.
Yet
this
one
was
different.
Aside
from
the
obvious
fact
that
Gwen
and
I
shared
the
same
first
name,
this
was
a
story
that
was
nothing
short
of
shocking
in
its
brutality.
This
young
woman
was
slowly
killed
over
the
course
of
several
hours
during
an
intimate
house
party
in
Newark,
Calif.
Her
broken
body
was
disposed
of
roughly
150
miles
from
home
and
her
killers
swore
to
not
let
anyone
know
what
happened
to
this
young
girl
who
they
discovered
had
male
genitalia.
In
October
2002,
I
attended
Gwen
Araujo’s
funeral
and
looked
directly
as
her
lifeless
body.
I
changed
that
day,
likely
forever.
My
work
as
a
transgender
activist
—
something
I
had
been
pursuing
for
roughly
a
decade
at
that
time
—
became
a
passion.
I
could
not
live
another
day
in
a
world
where
this
sort
of
cruelty
could
be
accepted.
WE
HAVE
LEARNED
a
lot
about
Gwen
Araujo’s
final
hours.
She
was
hit
with
a
soup
can
and
a
skillet,
kicked
in
the
head
so
hard
that
it
left
a
dent
on
the
wall
behind
her,
and
finally
was
strangled
to
death.
We’ve
heard
how
four
suspects
went
out
for
breakfast
at
McDonald’s
some
time
after
burying
Gwen
in
a
shallow
grave,
as
if
nothing
had
happened.
Over
time,
I’ve
also
gotten
to
know
Gwen
Araujo’s
family,
and
each
of
them
has
become
dear
to
me.
Their
dedication
to
seeing
this
through,
and
their
love
for
each
other,
is
an
inspiration.
It
breaks
my
heart
to
see
them
have
to
go
through
this
whole
process
yet
again,
reliving
all
over
the
events
of
Oct.
3.
Recently
I
was
with
Gwen’s
mother,
Sylvia
Guerrero,
and
she
took
us
by
one
other
house:
the
scene
of
the
murder.
It’s
a
home
not
unlike
the
one
I
grew
up
in,
and
as
visibly
nondescript
as
any
other
tract
house.
It
sits
only
two
long
blocks
from
the
very
place
where
Gwen’s
mother
now
lives.
If
Gwen
had
been
able
to
escape
that
house
on
the
night
she
was
killed
in
just
one
of
the
three
times
she
tried,
we
wouldn’t
be
left
with
only
a
handful
of
Gwen’s
ashes
in
a
pretty
box.
THE
TRIAL
OF
her
alleged
killers
was
much
like
any
other.
What
made
it
different
was
the
issue
of
Gwen’s
gender
identity;
an
issue
that
the
defense
sought
to
emphasize
and
the
D.A.
downplayed.
The
theme
of
the
defense
is
typical
of
other
murder
trials
involving
a
gay
or
transgendered
victim.
Like
the
“gay
panic”
defense,
the
defendants
in
Gwen’s
case
argued
they
were
deceived,
and
when
they
realized
that
they
had
been
intimate
with
a
man,
they
“freaked
out.”
This
so-called
“trans
panic”
defense
is
being
presented
as
if
murdering
another
human
being
is
perfectly
reasonable
behavior
if
the
victim
turns
out
to
be
transgendered.
It
is
as
if
this
is
some
sort
of
sick
morality
play,
where
Gwen
Araujo
deceived
the
wrong
people,
and
simply
got
what
she
deserved
for
doing
so.
When
Gwen
Araujo
was
questioned
by
her
tormentors
as
to
whether
she
was
a
man
or
a
woman,
she
was
reported
as
saying
three
simple
words:
“Isn’t
it
obvious?”
That
should
lie
at
the
heart
of
this
case.
To
Gwen,
she
was
not
out
to
deceive
anyone.
She
was
living
her
life
as
any
other
17-year-old
girl.
If
there
was
panic,
it
wasn’t
because
Gwen
deceived
anyone,
but
rather
it
is
because
her
killers
were
insecure
in
their
own
identities.
The
jury
hung
in
this
case,
paving
the
way
for
a
second
trial.
Some
say
the
jury
discounted
this
“trans
panic”
defense;
others
say
they
hung
because
of
it.
Now
the
family
will
again
go
through
heart-wrenching
testimony
and
will
listen
as
lawyers
tell
the
jury
that
those
who
killed
their
beloved
Gwen
were
nice,
upstanding
men
who
were
victimized.
I’ve
not
slept
well
since
that
day
when
Sylvia
Guerrero
took
me
by
the
house
where
Gwen
was
killed.
We
deserve
better
than
this,
and
it’s
up
to
us
to
demand
the
right
to
be
ourselves
—
and
to
live.
