When you're an accomplished media player, you do everything you can to look the part of a suave, metrosexual and manage your public image?
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When you're an accomplished media player, you do everything you can to look the part of a suave, metrosexual and manage your public image?
scooter1369
HTTR Forever.
And this is supposed to surprise anybody. Maurice is all about the world bending to his satisfaction.
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Indica
Something
it would be cool if this thread went all the way back to when he was first being recruited by osu. it would make for a VERY interesting sociological read. I would much rather watch a well-made documentary about him than another one of these ridiculous feel-good sports movies (in the last few years, there's been varsity blues, the replacements, any given sunday, the longest yard, invinceable, this new one with the Rock and a juvenille delinquent team, another new one about some christian high school coach, remember the titans... and that's just FOOTBALL!) Jesus christ our country has become so totally devoid of imagination and creativity
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scooter1369
HTTR Forever.
Don't let Oprah or Spike Lee make this movie. God please don't let that happen.
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ABJ
Clarett's struggle with right and wrong lands him in jail
NANCY ARMOUR
Associated Press
YOUNGSTOWN, Ohio - For years, there were plenty of people eager to adore Maurice Clarett.
Thousands cheered him as he juked and slashed his way through high school in football-mad northeast Ohio. The roars grew deafening when he took his show down the road to Ohio State, rocking the Horseshoe as he rumbled through Big Ten defenses.
The Buckeyes are still hearing those cheers, starting the season as the No. 1 team in the nation. For Clarett, though, there is disappointed silence, and the heavy thud of a cell door closing.
"Everybody, you know what they say?" asked Jim Roland, who has lived across the street from the Claretts since Maurice Clarett was barely old enough to cradle a football.
"They say our friend let us down."
Less than four years after leading the Buckeyes to their first national title in 34 years, the former running back sits locked in a jail cell. What began with robbery and weapon charges in a New Year's Day incident escalated three weeks ago when police stopped Clarett near the home of a potential witness and found him wearing a bulletproof vest and carrying three semiautomatic handguns and an automatic rifle - all loaded - in his SUV.
Two very different paths, two very different lives.
"He could be charming, funny, engaging. He was bright in many ways. But I also felt he was flawed in understanding the difference between right and wrong, and not having any willingness or even recognition of living life by the rules," said former Ohio State athletic director Andy Geiger.
"He always seemed to have one foot in the place you wanted him to go, but you could never get the second foot there."
Clarett is scheduled to go on trial Sept. 18, pending a psychiatric evaluation, and is barred from talking to the media. His mother, Michelle, did not return several phone calls from The Associated Press, and no one answered the door at the family home in Youngstown. His attorneys, Michael Hoague and Nick Mango, also did not return repeated phone calls.
"He's a good guy who's had bad guidance and listens sometimes to the wrong people," said Denver Broncos safety Tyler Everett, a friend of Clarett's since they were 12 years old and a teammate at Ohio State.
Clarett was born with a gift for creating holes and slithering through them. Big and strong at 6 feet, 230 pounds, he made even the toughest defenses look silly. If he didn't run by you, he'd run over you. If he didn't see a hole, he'd make one.
He piled up 4,119 yards rushing and 52 touchdowns in three years at Warren Harding High School in Warren, Ohio - despite missing part of his junior season with an ankle injury. His senior year alone he carried for 2,194 yards and 38 touchdowns, and was named Ohio's Mr. Football and USA Today's national offensive player of the year.
At Ohio State, he missed all or part of five games because of injuries, yet still set freshman records with 1,237 yards rushing and 16 touchdowns. Without him, the gleaming 2002 national championship trophies likely would be in Coral Gables, not Columbus.
At the Fiesta Bowl against Miami in a second overtime, Clarett cut through the Hurricane defense and dived into the end zone for the winning, 5-yard touchdown. He also made the most memorable play of the game, stripping the ball from a Miami defender after an interception.
"Anyone that had been there his freshman year in that stadium, I mean, he was everything. To everybody. From game one," said Green Bay Packers linebacker A.J. Hawk, a teammate at Ohio State. "People chanted his name the whole time, and he had a great year."
But football was more than an ego boost for Clarett. It was his way out.
Clarett grew up in gritty Youngstown, in a neighborhood on the hard and unforgiving south side. The steel mills and factories that once provided jobs for generations of families are long gone, and little good has replaced them. His mother, Michelle, tried to keep her three sons away from temptation, but it was never far off.
Clarett once said he'd been to 10 funerals by the time he left for Ohio State. He knew at least three people who'd been shot, one of whom bled to death before his eyes. His oldest brother, Michael, is serving a 4 1/2-year prison sentence for drug trafficking, possession and assault.
At the Claretts' two-story house, there's a "no trespassing" sign out front, and the shades are drawn. Abandoned houses dot the street where he and his friends played football after school, and weeds are the only occupants of one lot. One neighbor greets visitors with a scowl and the threat of his two pit bulls, while a little boy riding his bike wears a T-shirt that says, "I am important." Two weeks ago, a man was shot to death in front of the crowd at a peewee football game less than two miles away.
"Maurice required a lot of attention keeping him on the right track, keeping him focused," said Paul Trina, the athletic director at Warren Harding, where Clarett transferred after his freshman year.
"We felt good here. We got him through high school and got him into college. You'd have hoped he had it figured out by that time."
Much of the time, it seemed as if he had.
Clarett - known as "Reece" or "Reecie" by friends back home - was a workout fiend, the first to show up in the weight room and the last to leave. He didn't drink soda and was careful about everything he ate. If a classmate had a party, it was a good bet he wouldn't be at it.
"I never saw the kid with a drink to his lips. The kid drank me out of house and home in orange juice," said Nick Frankos, whose Buena Vista Cafe is down the street from Warren Harding and is a hangout for the school's athletes.
"You know how kids are, kids talk. I'd say, `Who was at that party?'" Frankos said. "Reece would go home at night. The kids said he never touched a drug, never touched alcohol."
A B-average student and something of a loner, he took summer school and graduated a semester early so he could jump-start his career at Ohio State.
Freedom is a funny thing, though. While its beauty lies in the infinite possibilities it presents, so, too, does its curse. After so many years of chasing one goal, all of those choices can spin you around like a 300-pound linebacker.
"He was in a hurry to get to college, he was in a hurry to get to the NFL. ... He wanted things before his time," Trina said. "As much as we're trying to get him to say, `Take it one day at a time,' I'm sure there were other people saying, `Man, you don't need that.'"
For everything good that came Clarett's way, he seemed to find an accompanying bad. He had a pair of touchdowns and his fourth straight 100-yard game against Northwestern. He also had a heated exchange on the sidelines with his position coach.
He landed on the cover of ESPN Magazine, but angered the Ohio State faithful by hinting that he might leave early and challenge the NFL's rule on underclassmen.
Even the Fiesta Bowl experience was tainted. Four days before the title game, he sparked a controversy when he criticized Ohio State for not getting him home for the funeral of a childhood friend who'd been shot. The next day, after Geiger said the school couldn't help because Clarett had failed to fill out the right forms, the freshman accused school officials of lying.
"After the Fiesta Bowl, we won the national championship game in overtime - an incredible experience. I was elated for about 10 minutes, and that's it. Then I was just relieved," said Geiger, who retired in June 2005.
Clarett's disruptions were forgotten, or at least forgiven, in the euphoria of the national championship. He was anointed the Heisman Trophy front-runner for what would be his sophomore season, and he already was projected as a top NFL draft pick whenever he came out. All he had to do was keep out of trouble.
Buckeyes coach Jim Tressel met frequently with Clarett. Geiger said he suggested counseling, a recommendation Clarett declined. Tressel also gave all of his players a handbook based on his "Block 'O' of Life" philosophy, designed to teach the players responsibility, leadership and the pillars of success.
But whether Clarett was getting bad advice or he was simply making bad choices, the right thing seemed harder and harder to come by. By summertime, the Columbus police, Ohio State and NCAA all were investigating one transgression or another.
On Sept. 10, 2003, Ohio State suspended Clarett for his sophomore season after determining he'd accepted thousands of dollars in improper benefits and then lied to NCAA and school investigators.
"When you review in your mind the conversations you've had and the lessons you've tried to share, yes, anytime we don't succeed, whether socially or academically ... it's disappointing," Tressel said after Clarett's most recent arrest. He declined additional comment for this story through Ohio State's sports information department.
Two weeks after his suspension, Clarett sued the NFL for the right to enter the draft early. Though he won the initial decision, he lost on appeals, leaving him in limbo until the spring of 2005.
"I think somebody was in his corner telling him what to do that wasn't the right thing to do," Frankos said. "You hear people say there's not any good people around him. There are plenty of people Reece could have surrounded himself with that wanted him to do the right thing."
People who still do, too.
"My dad said, `He's still one of our kids. I'm not going to turn my back on him. Nor should anyone else,'" Frankos said.
Though Clarett's NFL stock had dropped because of personal issues and poor showings at the 2004 and 2005 combines, the Denver Broncos still made him a third-round pick in the 2005 draft.
Four months later, they cut him. And once again, it seemed as if Clarett was getting in his own way.
"Our players really tried to take care of this guy, and he wanted no part of it," Denver coach Mike Shanahan said. "That was one of the reasons why he didn't make our football team. I don't think I've ever been around a bunch of guys (who) reached out to a guy more than Maurice, trying to help him, and a guy not wanting that help. That's a shame."
Added safety Nick Ferguson, "He was pretty withdrawn, which is really hard to be being around guys like this in the organization. If you can't jell with guys on this team, there's a problem."
With no other NFL teams interested, Clarett went home to Ohio. The path that was supposed to be his way out had led him right back where he started.
Clarett was accused of robbing two people at gunpoint in an alley behind a Columbus bar, coming away with only a cell phone, on New Year's Day. He was indicted on two counts of aggravated robbery, four lesser robbery charges and a charge of carrying a concealed weapon. That trial is scheduled to start Sept. 18.
But Clarett seemed to be getting his life on the right track over the summer. Though his daughter was born prematurely in July, friends said she was doing well and Clarett was delighted to be a father.
He also was going to play football again, signing on with the Mahoning Valley Hitmen of the Eastern Indoor Football League. The team was a far cry from the NFL or even Ohio State - owner and head coach Jim Terry likens it to "Double-A ball" - but it was a start.
"Sure, (the NFL) was in the back of his mind, but it wasn't his main reason," Terry said. "He wanted to clean up his image and show he wasn't a thug or a punk."
Then, three weeks ago, he was arrested following a highway chase with police. Clarett was wearing a bulletproof vest, and police had to use pepper spray to subdue him. In addition to the weapons, police found a bottle of Grey Goose vodka in the SUV.
Prosecutors said Clarett had only been a few blocks away from the home of a woman who was supposed to testify against him in the robbery case.
"Does he know the difference between right and wrong? Yeah," Terry said. "But the kind of right and wrong people are looking at - is he the kind of guy who will come in here, somebody will look at him and he'll punch them in the face? He don't do that kind of stuff.
"That's more of a Mike Tyson thug. He's not like that," said Terry, who spoke with Clarett about two hours before he was arrested and said nothing seemed amiss. "It's a totally different situation."
To most, right and wrong aren't so negotiable.
At the Buckeye Hall of Fame Cafe, a few blocks south of campus, Clarett is absent from the lighted montage honoring the 2002 national champions. A photo of him from the Fiesta Bowl was prominent in the original mock-ups, but it was gone when the final version went up in the fall of 2003.
"We just failed," Geiger said. "I'll never stop trying to analyze and think through all of our conversations and all the things we went through to think, `How could I have or how could we have as an organization gotten him to pay attention?'
"He was there sometimes, and he was like in another world sometimes. That's the enigmatic part of Maurice Clarett."
Clarett's struggle with right and wrong lands him in jail
NANCY ARMOUR
Associated Press
YOUNGSTOWN, Ohio - For years, there were plenty of people eager to adore Maurice Clarett.
Thousands cheered him as he juked and slashed his way through high school in football-mad northeast Ohio. The roars grew deafening when he took his show down the road to Ohio State, rocking the Horseshoe as he rumbled through Big Ten defenses.
The Buckeyes are still hearing those cheers, starting the season as the No. 1 team in the nation. For Clarett, though, there is disappointed silence, and the heavy thud of a cell door closing.
"Everybody, you know what they say?" asked Jim Roland, who has lived across the street from the Claretts since Maurice Clarett was barely old enough to cradle a football.
"They say our friend let us down."
Less than four years after leading the Buckeyes to their first national title in 34 years, the former running back sits locked in a jail cell. What began with robbery and weapon charges in a New Year's Day incident escalated three weeks ago when police stopped Clarett near the home of a potential witness and found him wearing a bulletproof vest and carrying three semiautomatic handguns and an automatic rifle - all loaded - in his SUV.
Two very different paths, two very different lives.
"He could be charming, funny, engaging. He was bright in many ways. But I also felt he was flawed in understanding the difference between right and wrong, and not having any willingness or even recognition of living life by the rules," said former Ohio State athletic director Andy Geiger.
"He always seemed to have one foot in the place you wanted him to go, but you could never get the second foot there."
Clarett is scheduled to go on trial Sept. 18, pending a psychiatric evaluation, and is barred from talking to the media. His mother, Michelle, did not return several phone calls from The Associated Press, and no one answered the door at the family home in Youngstown. His attorneys, Michael Hoague and Nick Mango, also did not return repeated phone calls.
"He's a good guy who's had bad guidance and listens sometimes to the wrong people," said Denver Broncos safety Tyler Everett, a friend of Clarett's since they were 12 years old and a teammate at Ohio State.
Clarett was born with a gift for creating holes and slithering through them. Big and strong at 6 feet, 230 pounds, he made even the toughest defenses look silly. If he didn't run by you, he'd run over you. If he didn't see a hole, he'd make one.
He piled up 4,119 yards rushing and 52 touchdowns in three years at Warren Harding High School in Warren, Ohio - despite missing part of his junior season with an ankle injury. His senior year alone he carried for 2,194 yards and 38 touchdowns, and was named Ohio's Mr. Football and USA Today's national offensive player of the year.
At Ohio State, he missed all or part of five games because of injuries, yet still set freshman records with 1,237 yards rushing and 16 touchdowns. Without him, the gleaming 2002 national championship trophies likely would be in Coral Gables, not Columbus.
At the Fiesta Bowl against Miami in a second overtime, Clarett cut through the Hurricane defense and dived into the end zone for the winning, 5-yard touchdown. He also made the most memorable play of the game, stripping the ball from a Miami defender after an interception.
"Anyone that had been there his freshman year in that stadium, I mean, he was everything. To everybody. From game one," said Green Bay Packers linebacker A.J. Hawk, a teammate at Ohio State. "People chanted his name the whole time, and he had a great year."
But football was more than an ego boost for Clarett. It was his way out.
Clarett grew up in gritty Youngstown, in a neighborhood on the hard and unforgiving south side. The steel mills and factories that once provided jobs for generations of families are long gone, and little good has replaced them. His mother, Michelle, tried to keep her three sons away from temptation, but it was never far off.
Clarett once said he'd been to 10 funerals by the time he left for Ohio State. He knew at least three people who'd been shot, one of whom bled to death before his eyes. His oldest brother, Michael, is serving a 4 1/2-year prison sentence for drug trafficking, possession and assault.
At the Claretts' two-story house, there's a "no trespassing" sign out front, and the shades are drawn. Abandoned houses dot the street where he and his friends played football after school, and weeds are the only occupants of one lot. One neighbor greets visitors with a scowl and the threat of his two pit bulls, while a little boy riding his bike wears a T-shirt that says, "I am important." Two weeks ago, a man was shot to death in front of the crowd at a peewee football game less than two miles away.
"Maurice required a lot of attention keeping him on the right track, keeping him focused," said Paul Trina, the athletic director at Warren Harding, where Clarett transferred after his freshman year.
"We felt good here. We got him through high school and got him into college. You'd have hoped he had it figured out by that time."
Much of the time, it seemed as if he had.
Clarett - known as "Reece" or "Reecie" by friends back home - was a workout fiend, the first to show up in the weight room and the last to leave. He didn't drink soda and was careful about everything he ate. If a classmate had a party, it was a good bet he wouldn't be at it.
"I never saw the kid with a drink to his lips. The kid drank me out of house and home in orange juice," said Nick Frankos, whose Buena Vista Cafe is down the street from Warren Harding and is a hangout for the school's athletes.
"You know how kids are, kids talk. I'd say, `Who was at that party?'" Frankos said. "Reece would go home at night. The kids said he never touched a drug, never touched alcohol."
A B-average student and something of a loner, he took summer school and graduated a semester early so he could jump-start his career at Ohio State.
Freedom is a funny thing, though. While its beauty lies in the infinite possibilities it presents, so, too, does its curse. After so many years of chasing one goal, all of those choices can spin you around like a 300-pound linebacker.
"He was in a hurry to get to college, he was in a hurry to get to the NFL. ... He wanted things before his time," Trina said. "As much as we're trying to get him to say, `Take it one day at a time,' I'm sure there were other people saying, `Man, you don't need that.'"
For everything good that came Clarett's way, he seemed to find an accompanying bad. He had a pair of touchdowns and his fourth straight 100-yard game against Northwestern. He also had a heated exchange on the sidelines with his position coach.
He landed on the cover of ESPN Magazine, but angered the Ohio State faithful by hinting that he might leave early and challenge the NFL's rule on underclassmen.
Even the Fiesta Bowl experience was tainted. Four days before the title game, he sparked a controversy when he criticized Ohio State for not getting him home for the funeral of a childhood friend who'd been shot. The next day, after Geiger said the school couldn't help because Clarett had failed to fill out the right forms, the freshman accused school officials of lying.
"After the Fiesta Bowl, we won the national championship game in overtime - an incredible experience. I was elated for about 10 minutes, and that's it. Then I was just relieved," said Geiger, who retired in June 2005.
Clarett's disruptions were forgotten, or at least forgiven, in the euphoria of the national championship. He was anointed the Heisman Trophy front-runner for what would be his sophomore season, and he already was projected as a top NFL draft pick whenever he came out. All he had to do was keep out of trouble.
Buckeyes coach Jim Tressel met frequently with Clarett. Geiger said he suggested counseling, a recommendation Clarett declined. Tressel also gave all of his players a handbook based on his "Block 'O' of Life" philosophy, designed to teach the players responsibility, leadership and the pillars of success.
But whether Clarett was getting bad advice or he was simply making bad choices, the right thing seemed harder and harder to come by. By summertime, the Columbus police, Ohio State and NCAA all were investigating one transgression or another.
On Sept. 10, 2003, Ohio State suspended Clarett for his sophomore season after determining he'd accepted thousands of dollars in improper benefits and then lied to NCAA and school investigators.
"When you review in your mind the conversations you've had and the lessons you've tried to share, yes, anytime we don't succeed, whether socially or academically ... it's disappointing," Tressel said after Clarett's most recent arrest. He declined additional comment for this story through Ohio State's sports information department.
Two weeks after his suspension, Clarett sued the NFL for the right to enter the draft early. Though he won the initial decision, he lost on appeals, leaving him in limbo until the spring of 2005.
"I think somebody was in his corner telling him what to do that wasn't the right thing to do," Frankos said. "You hear people say there's not any good people around him. There are plenty of people Reece could have surrounded himself with that wanted him to do the right thing."
People who still do, too.
"My dad said, `He's still one of our kids. I'm not going to turn my back on him. Nor should anyone else,'" Frankos said.
Though Clarett's NFL stock had dropped because of personal issues and poor showings at the 2004 and 2005 combines, the Denver Broncos still made him a third-round pick in the 2005 draft.
Four months later, they cut him. And once again, it seemed as if Clarett was getting in his own way.
"Our players really tried to take care of this guy, and he wanted no part of it," Denver coach Mike Shanahan said. "That was one of the reasons why he didn't make our football team. I don't think I've ever been around a bunch of guys (who) reached out to a guy more than Maurice, trying to help him, and a guy not wanting that help. That's a shame."
Added safety Nick Ferguson, "He was pretty withdrawn, which is really hard to be being around guys like this in the organization. If you can't jell with guys on this team, there's a problem."
With no other NFL teams interested, Clarett went home to Ohio. The path that was supposed to be his way out had led him right back where he started.
Clarett was accused of robbing two people at gunpoint in an alley behind a Columbus bar, coming away with only a cell phone, on New Year's Day. He was indicted on two counts of aggravated robbery, four lesser robbery charges and a charge of carrying a concealed weapon. That trial is scheduled to start Sept. 18.
But Clarett seemed to be getting his life on the right track over the summer. Though his daughter was born prematurely in July, friends said she was doing well and Clarett was delighted to be a father.
He also was going to play football again, signing on with the Mahoning Valley Hitmen of the Eastern Indoor Football League. The team was a far cry from the NFL or even Ohio State - owner and head coach Jim Terry likens it to "Double-A ball" - but it was a start.
"Sure, (the NFL) was in the back of his mind, but it wasn't his main reason," Terry said. "He wanted to clean up his image and show he wasn't a thug or a punk."
Then, three weeks ago, he was arrested following a highway chase with police. Clarett was wearing a bulletproof vest, and police had to use pepper spray to subdue him. In addition to the weapons, police found a bottle of Grey Goose vodka in the SUV.
Prosecutors said Clarett had only been a few blocks away from the home of a woman who was supposed to testify against him in the robbery case.
"Does he know the difference between right and wrong? Yeah," Terry said. "But the kind of right and wrong people are looking at - is he the kind of guy who will come in here, somebody will look at him and he'll punch them in the face? He don't do that kind of stuff.
"That's more of a Mike Tyson thug. He's not like that," said Terry, who spoke with Clarett about two hours before he was arrested and said nothing seemed amiss. "It's a totally different situation."
To most, right and wrong aren't so negotiable.
At the Buckeye Hall of Fame Cafe, a few blocks south of campus, Clarett is absent from the lighted montage honoring the 2002 national champions. A photo of him from the Fiesta Bowl was prominent in the original mock-ups, but it was gone when the final version went up in the fall of 2003.
"We just failed," Geiger said. "I'll never stop trying to analyze and think through all of our conversations and all the things we went through to think, `How could I have or how could we have as an organization gotten him to pay attention?'
"He was there sometimes, and he was like in another world sometimes. That's the enigmatic part of Maurice Clarett."
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Buck Nasty
You'll have nothing and like it
The one thing everyone has said about MoC is that he keeps surrounding himself with the wrong people. Then you read where he says he has learned his lessons. Then I read this in the paper.
If he has in fact hired Mango as his attorney, he is way more fucked up that I could have ever imagined. He must have fallen under the spell.
If he has in fact hired Mango as his attorney, he is way more fucked up that I could have ever imagined. He must have fallen under the spell.
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Indica
Something
I wish people would read the quotes about Maurice from people that actually knew him (players, coaches, and even Geiger). As opposed to internet message boarders and sports columnists that apparently have some kind of an orgasm whenever the opportunity to kick and spit at a guy when he's down presents itself. It's like they need to validate their own self-worth by trashing on someone else.
The lesson of Maurice is the danger of excessive pride. But our chests do swell up when we get to collectively trash #13. Ironic.
The lesson of Maurice is the danger of excessive pride. But our chests do swell up when we get to collectively trash #13. Ironic.
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Buckin' A
Veritas Aequitas
The one thing everyone has said about MoC is that he keeps surrounding himself with the wrong people. Then you read where he says he has learned his lessons. Then I read this in the paper.
If he has in fact hired Mango as his attorney, he is way more fucked up that I could have ever imagined. He must have fallen under the spell.
Breaking news is that Clarett has now added Mr. Peepers to his legal team.
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I don't know. In the case of Buckeye fans, I think it is just really hard to sit back and buy into the "misguided" and "he seemed like such a nice guy" rubbish. Wait, now he's bipolar. Next week, there will be another excuse.
I think that most folks don't get enjoyment out of kicking someone who is down. I think they rather think that this seems to be a miserable excuse for a human being who was given every chance to have a life most of people can only dream of. Yet, he did everything he could to throw it away and then bring down Ohio State football and cast aspersions on the team, coaches, and administration, in order to cover up his own greed.
Now, it appears that he was involved with organized crime. You don't get that money without a promise to deliver something big time tomorrow. And its reasonable that people's minds would wander.
Some folks also may resent the incredible support that his apparent lies got from Freeman, Friend, and the other "wonderfully professional sports journalists" who covered this story and who continue to slur toward Ohio State and somehow pretend that they owe Clarett something.
What is mind boggling is that Jim Tressel was still trying to encourage him when he pulled this latest stunt.
I'm not sure what you mean by "even Geiger"? Andy Geiger is a decent man who did a lot for Ohio State and who had the last days of his career ruined by Clarett's behavior and shameless accusations. Two NCAA investigations and press digging all over and nothing came of that crap. And what can we expect people who were near Clarett to reveal around this most litigious of young men and his retinue?
With all due respect, the lesson of Maurice Clarett is one of values and greed and a misplaced sense of entitlement. I think all that most people want is to see him fairly tried and to see justice done.
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