By Alan Prendergast
By Michael Roberts
By Michael Roberts
By Amber Taufen
By Patricia Calhoun
By William Breathes
By Michael Roberts
By Melanie Asmar
On Tuesday, City Hall still bore the scars of Monday's Super Bowl rally. Outside, street sweepers blew away leftover parade litter; on the doors, notes from Mayor Wellington Webb promised a victory celebration for city workers; inside, miscreants wearing blue and orange swapped high fives as they waited to pay their debts to society.
Upstairs in courtroom 311, Broncos starter Tyrone Braxton was just beginning to pay his dues. For being famous, and maybe, just maybe, for harassing four women on the night of the Denver Broncos' previous Super Bowl parade.
Those women filed a civil lawsuit against Braxton on March 20, 1998, and as luck would have it--luck, coupled with amended complaints and heavily argued motions that fill inches of files in Denver District Judge Morris Hoffman's chambers--the trial was scheduled to begin February 1. Recognizing the realities of a potential Broncos win, last week Judge Hoffman postponed jury selection by a day. It would be too darn distracting for people about to sit in judgment of the Bronco to have to fight their way through hundreds of thousands of fans gathered around the courthouse. As it turns out, Hoffman made a wise decision. On Monday, at a hearing on the upcoming hate-crime trial of Nathan Thill, the thick courtroom walls couldn't keep out the sound of "Born to Be Wild" blaring outside for the crowd.
Racism permeates the Braxton case, too. The four plaintiffs are black, as is Braxton--but his wife is white. And the plaintiffs' attorney made sure to mention that fact to potential jurors, signaling a major play in the game to come.
According to the suit filed by plaintiffs Reyniko Abram, Shellyann Allen, Aretha Moore and Turkesha Tillis, what happened was this: On the night of January 27, 1998--the date that Broncos fans flooded downtown to welcome their heroes at a parade--the four young women, all fans of the Broncos, were at I-Beam, a now-defunct club on Larimer Square. While they were there, Braxton came in with a "very boisterous" group of fellow Broncos, talking to white women and bragging loudly about the Super Bowl.
And bragging about other things, according to witnesses for the plaintiffs. Abram claims Braxton took her by the neck and hair, told her, "If you all ain't fucking, I ain't talking to none of y'all," then made a vulgar comment about his penis--before he "swung it." Abram complained to the cops about this action three days later, on January 30.
According to Braxton's attorneys, that was the day after Abram was arrested for confronting Bronco Alfred Williams and his Hispanic wife at the club. Before that, Abram hadn't complained to the cops about Braxton's alleged behavior January 27, nor had she or anyone else told the club, says Edward Leger, an off-duty Denver cop working at I-Beam that night.
But the forty Denver residents called for jury duty didn't know any of this. Their only hint that the case would involve a famous figure--and a part he did or didn't "swing"--came when Braxton walked into the courtroom and sat beside his attorneys. There were whispers, a few nudges. And then Hoffman made it official, announcing he would "introduce the players." First up, plaintiff's attorney Anne Sulton. She introduced her co-counsels, both black men, as well as the four plaintiffs sitting behind them. Then defense attorney Jeff Springer introduced fellow white-guy attorney Harvey Steinberg and their client--yes, Tyrone Braxton.
The judge then offered a taste of what would follow: The plaintiffs were claiming Braxton had engaged in "assault and outrageous conduct," including exposing himself, and were asking for damages. Braxton, he continued, denied both the assault and the conduct, and had countersued.
Then came the tedious housekeeping. Hoffman asked the prospective jurors whether they knew the plaintiffs, the defendant or their lawyers--"and when I say 'know,' I mean know personally," he emphasized. And did they know any of the people who might be called to testify, such as Broncos owner Pat Bowlen and Assistant District Attorney Chuck Lepley? (The judge also listed Westword's T.R. Witcher, who'd mentioned the suit in his May 7, 1998, profile of Sulton, but that subpoena had been quashed the day before by Hoffman.)
Who knew jury selection would move slower than Neil Smith running for a touchdown? The real action started at three that afternoon, when Sulton got the toss and stood to address seventeen prospective jurors seated in the box. How many were Broncos season-ticket holders? One. How many had a copy of Tyrone Braxton's autograph? None. How many wanted Braxton's autograph? None admitted it. Does money make a difference in the justice system? Yes, responded a teacher. How many had seen a football game in the last year? Five. If a player was killed on the field, would you stay until the end of the game? Shrugs. Was there anyone who believed the Denver Broncos were on trial in this case? No. Noting that Braxton is married to a white woman, Sulton asked if anyone would feel uncomfortable about African-American women discussing his interest in white females. No. Had anyone been called "a bitch or a ho" in public? Did anyone think it was appropriate to expose private body parts in a nightclub?