Monday, April 02, 2012



On December 31, 2011, William Singletary, a decorated Vietnam Vet who suffered from the effects of Agent Orange and heart failure, died of multiple organ failure. To most of you, he is known as a witness to Mumia’s innocence. Bill came forward in 1990 to testify that he saw another man, not Mumia, shoot Daniel Faulkner and run from the scene. From that time forward, Bill spoke out for Mumia’s innocence and to expose the police brutality directed against Mumia. For that, Bill was harassed by police, driven from Philadelphia, and ostracized by his family and suffered financial problems.

Jeanette Singletary knew when she married Bill that the case of Mumia Abu-Jamal would be an integral part of their life together .She stood with Bill through the 1995 PCRA hearing and as he continued his public campaign. Jeanette nursed and cared for Bill full-time over the past three years. When Bill died after weeks in intensive care, the family income, which was from his veteran’s benefits and social security disability, was slashed. His claims for benefits as a victim of Agent Orange have been denied. Jeanette has no other source of income. Their nineteen-year old daughter Sheadale, Bill’s pride and joy, began college this year. The Singletary home is now in foreclosure, and there are stacks of bills that Jeannette cannot pay. There is no money to keep up a car, which is necessary to get a job and buy groceries.

Please help this courageous family. Any gift of money will help. Your words of support will be appreciated.

Please send your contribution to: Jeanette Singletary, P.O. Box 71452, Durham, N. Carolina 27722-1452.

You can email Jeanette and Sheadale at:

In thanks to William Singletary and his courageous defense of Mumia Abu-Jamal,

Rachel Wolkenstein

A Message from Mumia

From Noelle Hanrahan/Prison Radio

On December 18, 2011, from his solitary cell at SCI Mahanoy, Mumia wrote a message to the men and women with whom he shared death row. We share it with you here: (courtesy of 'Greater Friends' the newsletter of Pennsylvania Prison Society)


It has been barely  a week since I departed Death Row, yet I cannot help but look back, for many of you are in my heart.
I may no longer be on Death Row, but because of you Death Row is still with me. How could that not be so, when I've spent more years of my life on Death Row, than in `Freedom?' Or, more time spent on Death Row, than with my family?

I write to tell you all—even those I've never met—that I love you, for we have shared something exceedingly rare. I have shared tears and laughter with you, that the world will neither know nor see. I have shared your anguish when some judge shattered your hopes and spit disappointment; or when some politician sought to use you to climb to higher office.

We have seen time and disease take some of our people off the Row. We have seen several choose their own date to die, cheating the hangman via suicide (William "Billy" Tilley, Jose "June" Pagan). But, Brothers and Sisters of the Row, I write not of death, but of life.

If I can walk off, so can you. Keep rumblin'; keep fightin'; keep rockin'. Check out your Mills issue.

But, there is more. Live each day, each hour, as if it is the only time there is. Love fiercely. Learn a new thing. A language. An art. A science. Keep your mind alive. Keep your heart alive. Laugh!

Look at each other not as competitors, but as fellow travelers on the same red road of life. No matter what the world says of you, see the best in each other, and radiate love to each other.

Be your best self. If you are blessed to have family, send your love to them all—no matter what. If you have a spiritual family or faith, practice it fully and deeply, for this links you to something greater than yourself. No matter what, Christian, Muslim, Judaism, Hindu, Krishna Consciousness, Buddhism, or SanterĂ­a (or Move). This broadens you and deepens you.

I have been blessed to have many of you as my teachers, and my students. Some have been my sons; some have been my brothers. Yet I see all of you as part of my family.

Take heart, for the death penalty itself is dying. States and counties simply can't afford it, and politicians who run on it are finding fewer and fewer buyers. Juries (especially in places like Philly) are increasingly reluctant to vote for death, even in cases where it appears imminent.

Sisters on the Row, while we have never met, my heart has felt your tears as you are forcibly separated from your children, unable to hold or kiss them. In many ways, as women, your anguish has been the worst, as your loves and sensitivities are deepest. My words to my brothers are yours as well: keep mind alive. Keep hearts alive. Live. Love. Learn. Laugh!

I know you all as few outsiders do. I've met artists, musicians, mathematicians, managers, jailhouse lawyers, and stockbrokers. I've seen guys who couldn't draw a straight line, emerge as master painters (Cush, Young Buck); I've seen guys come from near illiteracy to become fluent in foreign languages; I've met teachers who've created works of surpassing beauty and craftsmanship (Big Tony).

You are all far more than others say of you, for the spark of the infinite glows within each of you. You are on Death Row, but what is finest in you is greater than Death Row.

So, care for each other. Not in words, but in the heart.
Think good vibes on each other.

Lastly, don't rat. (If ratting was so cool, they would've beat me off the Row).

Keep rumblin', `cause your day is coming.

—Mumia Abu-Jamal, M.A.
Death Row (1983–2011)