Alcohol And A Big Gun
A triple gun murder in our neighborhood flashes through the media and disappears, a story neither glamorous enough or white enough to remember
The triple homicide at 190 Delaware Avenue happened last Wednesday right up the street from me, on the edge of my neighborhood. I understand that one of the victims actually lived in my immediate neighborhood, a block away on Morton Avenue. This was close to home, too close.
But the funny thing is that it seemed like my three neighbors were gunned down on the other side of the world. “Three soldiers dead in Baghdad,” or “Gunman slays three in Cleveland McDonalds.” There was precious little for me to touch, nothing to see except through the corporate media filter, and through the eyes of others.
I’m sure I’ve seen and would recognize all of the people involved, and may have talked to some. I often walk past that house. Perhaps if I had personal connections, it would be different. Perhaps I should be thankful that I have no reason to mourn.
I didn’t want to be a vulture, feeding off of tragedy, but a mass murder up the street is of concern to the neighborhood, and I am the president of the local neighborhood association. So about three hours after the discovery of the bodies, around 10 AM or so I strolled up the street to observe the circus.
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Media Corral, Facing The Crime Scene |
The media was out in full force, corralled by the police across and up the street. As usual I jumped around them snapping photos with my toy camera. They stayed there most of the day, hovering like vultures waiting for dead bodies.
Eventually they were rewarded with one body being carried out of the house, along with screaming relatives. This was the reason for the corralling of the media by the police, to preserve a little dignity for the survivors. In retrospect, I think this was a good move on the part of Chief of Police James Tuffey.
I came up to the Chief to ask him a few questions. Somehow I found myself standing in the gutter while he positioned himself on the curb literally hovering over me, breathing into my face. He answered my questions with monosyllables. This wouldn’t do, so I hopped up to the curb so that I could be taller than him again.
My purpose in talking to the Chief was to ask him to send someone to provide details to the neighborhood meeting we had scheduled for that night, he promised to do so. But then our conversation was cut short by the arrival of Albany County District Attorney David Soares, and the two of them immediately scooted across the street to the scene of the crime, no fooling around with the media or neighborhood busybodies.
I had a great shot of the two of them, but the my toy camera didn’t react fast enough. Damn.
Well, I noticed that people were walking down both sides of the street unchallenged, so I strolled up opposite 190 Delaware to get a photo. But a police sergeant in full regalia charged across the street going, “Sir! Sir!” so I only got off one blurry photo. Oh well.
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That Cop's Comin' At Me, No Time To Focus |
So what happened? Contrary to the standard suburbanite image of Albany neighborhoods, the house was the home of stable, hardworking people. These are long time Albany citizens with relatives living in various houses nearby. No gangs, no drug deals, and the gun used as a murder weapon was an anomaly.
But everyone involved is black, so the media lost interest almost immediately. As our anonymous friend over at Democracy In Albany put it so aptly:
One wonders if instead of three young black men in a low income section of town getting gunned down this week if this had been three SUNYA co-eds getting gunned down by an acquaintance, would the coverage have been different? What does that tell us about us?
I suppose I should be thankful that the corporate media is not dwelling on this, turning it into an “ain’t Albany awful” piece of propaganda. But really, by amplifying the story and then running away from it, they have left a general impression that this is just one more “gangs of lawless blacks murdering each other over drugs” story. In truth, this is the kind of tragedy that could have happened anywhere.
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Javon Underdue |
The killer, Javon Underdue, is a native Albanian from a stable family. I’ve been told that when his mother died in 1998, he inherited one hundred thousand dollars. It took him eight months to blow through the money. It seems he’d been drifting and scamming ever since.
The family at 190 Delaware knew Underdue from way back, some had grown up with him. They’d taken him in, hoping to help him out. But everyone knew that he harbored resentments for his benefactors, something about them getting all the breaks and none for him. Apparently, this attitude was behind the murder.
Underdue and two of the victims had been hanging out together. The media made much of the fact that they were smoking marijuana, as if that were relevant. Like the yellow lead sentence from the Hearst Times Union account:
Jovan Underdue went to 190 Delaware Ave. on Tuesday afternoon to smoke marijuana, drink French vodka and hang out with his "best friend" -- Bobby "Bop" Jones.
Whatever. I know that the majority of the population is intimately familiar with the effects of marijuana. So I know that the majority of people reading this article will agree that if Underdue had stuck to smoking weed, the worst thing he would have done is describe in detail how he’d like to kill everybody in the house. And maybe kick over the coffee table for emphasis.
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Snub Nose .38 |
No, the murder is a result of the deadly combination of alcohol and a handgun, specifically a bottle of vodka and loaded .38. It took both of these things combined with the killer’s weak personality to create the tragedy.
Unlike marijuana, alcohol use often generates violence. But without the handgun we would have had a typical case of domestic rowdiness. “Police called to break up altercation after night of heavy drinking.” Anger, bruises, maybe some broken bones, and busted furniture.
But the loaded .38 made it easy to amplify drunken anger. As the gun advocates say, “Guns don’t kill people, people do.” True enough. But using an ax to murder takes quite a bit of planning and leaves plenty of room for second thoughts. Indeed, it seems to me that the suburbs of Albany are crawling with deranged white people wielding axes.
Or sometimes the suburbanites use knives. One Saturday back in 2005 the Trustco Bank branch that I frequent up on Madison Avenue was held hostage by a lunatic suburbanite with a backpack full of long knives. After an eight hour standoff he hung himself in the manager’s office. He did not have a gun. No one else was hurt.
This lunatic was born and raised in Guilderland. The local corporate media, without exception, claimed that he was from Albany. This was a deliberate lie. Only the consistently reliable Altamont Enterprise reported on his suburbanite origins.
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Harold Severy, Schenectady Union-Star, 1916 |
And you don’t need alcohol to misuse a gun. It was ironic that the Daily Gazette ran a big feature article the day before about a drifter from out of town who shot four people on the streets of Albany back in January, 1916, one of whom died. One of the victims was shot nearby at the corner of Delaware and Myrtle. He used a sawed-off .22 rifle concealed in his coat sleeve. He was clearly insane, he had escaped from several asylums.
What was Underdue doing with a loaded .38, a veritable hand cannon? This is an irresponsible guy who was scrabbling around, but he could easily obtain and maintain this serious piece of machinery. I have yet to hear anyone ask this question. I call upon the Gun Violence Task Force to take a hard look at this case, and to trace the origins of this weapon. Are you reading this, Lenny Morgenbesser and Rev. John Miller?
Drunk and angry, Underdue shot the two adults and the teenager in their heads, execution style. But they were not the only persons present in the house. There was also a three year old boy, son of one of the victims, presumably sleeping in a back bedroom. What did he see? Did Underdue do something to him?
I’ve been told that when the boy is asked what he saw, he says nothing and punches the air three times. He was taken to one of the hospitals to be checked out. The personnel there, who see plenty of aftermath, immediately saw that the boy is suffering from trauma and needs serious counseling.
To Chief Tuffey’s credit, he responded to my request to provide information to the neighbors and personally showed up at our neighborhood meeting, trailing a retinue that included the detective assigned to the case and the commander of South Station. Afterwards, he moved on to a Delaware Neighborhood meeting hastily convened by 7th Ward Common Council member Cathy Fahey.
I was astonished that only eight of our neighbors showed up for our meeting, the public officials present outnumbered the neighbors. This despite a blizzard of emails The Wife and I sent out during the day. I can only guess that in our media oriented society, such events remain unreal to most people even when they occur in the real world literally around the corner.
I’ve always said that the job of Chief of Police is a political position, and the Chief is by necessity a politician. Whatever his ultimate motives, Mr. Tuffey is the first Albany Chief of Police that I’ve seen who understands this. On behalf of our neighborhood I would like to thank him for his concern and his attention during this tragedy.
But the Chief was not forthcoming about details, although he did confirm to us that the victims had all been shot in the head after making denials to the media all afternoon. And he also dropped some misinformation, such as denying that the unfortunate child was present.
While the Chief was talking to us, Underdue was turning himself in to the police and undergoing interrogation. This was probably why the Chief could so confidently tell us at the meeting that we were in no danger, that this was not a gang related incident, a home invasion robbery or a random act of violence by some suburban lunatic.
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Facing The Crime Scene, Visible At Left. Chief Tuffey In Tan Coat |
That morning, nearby business owners were frantic, telling Chief Tuffey that they did not want the names of their businesses mentioned in the lurid corporate media accounts. I heard that notorious slumlord Roger Ploof, who has been buying up property nearby, arrived early. Indeed, the first question I asked the Chief that morning was if Ploof owned 190 Delaware. (He does not, the owner is Matt Ryan of Troy.)
Ploof must have made an impression on the Chief. When I walked into my house around 1 PM, The Wife said, “You missed the big phone call.”
Chief Tuffey was brief. He wanted me to know that someone would be at the neighborhood meeting that night, only later he decided to come himself. And one more thing.
“Make sure your husband knows,” he said to The Wife, “that Roger Ploof does NOT own 190 Delaware.”
Then he repeated himself. That was all.
Thanks to Dominick Calsolaro for providing some of the details used in this article that did not appear in the press accounts.