Torn Apart - The Most Horrific True Murder Stories You'll Ever Read. Tim Miles

      Matt became a symbol – some say a martyr, putting a boy-next-door face on hate crimes. That’s fine with me. Matt would be thrilled if his death would help others. On the other hand, your agreement to life without parole has taken yourself out of the spotlight and out of the public eye. It means no drawn-out appeals process, no chance of walking away free due to a technicality, and no chance of a lighter sentence due to a ‘merciful’ jury. Best of all, you won’t be a symbol. No years of publicity, no chance of a commutation, no nothing – just a miserable future and a more miserable end. It works for me.

      My son was taught to look at all sides of an issue before making a decision or taking a stand. He learned this early when he helped campaign for various political candidates while in grade school and junior high. When he did take a stand, it was based on his best judgement. Such a stand cost him his life when he quietly let it be known that he was gay.

      He didn’t advertise it but he didn’t back away from the issue either. For that I’ll always be proud of him. He showed me that he was a lot more courageous than most people, including myself. Matt knew that there were dangers to being gay but he accepted that and wanted to just get on with his life and his ambition of helping others.

      Matt’s beating, hospitalisation and funeral focused worldwide attention on hate. Good is coming out of evil. People have said, ‘Enough is enough.’ You screwed up, Mr McKinney. You made the world realise that a person’s lifestyle is not a reason for discrimination, intolerance, persecution and violence.

      This is not the 1920s, 30s and 40s of Nazi Germany. My son died because of your ignorance and intolerance. I can’t bring him back. But I can do my best to see that this never, ever happens to another person or another family again. As I mentioned earlier, my son has become a symbol – a symbol against hate and people like you; a symbol for encouraging respect for individuality, for appreciating that someone is different, for tolerance. I miss my son but I’m proud to be able to say that he is my son.

      ‘Mr McKinney, one final comment before I sit, and this is the reason that I stand before you now. At no time since Matt was found at the fence and taken to the hospital have Judy and I made any statements about our beliefs concerning the death penalty. We felt that would be an undue influence on any prospective juror. Judy has been quoted by some right-wing groups as being against the death penalty. It has been stated that Matt was against the death penalty. Both of these statements are wrong. We have held family discussions and talked about the death penalty. It was his opinion that the death penalty should be sought and that no expense should be spared to bring those responsible for this murder to justice.

      Little did we know that the same response would come about involving Matt. I, too, believe in the death penalty. I would like nothing better than to see you die, Mr McKinney. However, this is the time to begin the healing process. To show mercy to someone who refused to show any mercy. To use this as the first step in my own closure about losing Matt.

      Mr McKinney, I am not doing this because of your family. I am definitely not doing it because of the crass and unwarranted pressures put on us by the religious community. If anything, that hardens my resolve to see you die.

      Mr McKinney, I’m going to grant you life, as hard as it is for me to do so, because of Matthew. Every time you celebrate Christmas, a birthday or the Fourth of July, remember that Matthew isn’t. Every time you wake up in that prison cell, remember that you had the opportunity and the ability to stop your actions that night. Every time that you see your cellmate, remember that you had a choice and now you are living that choice. You robbed me of something very precious and I will never forgive you for that.

      Mr McKinney, I give you life in the memory of one who no longer lives. May you have a long life and may you thank Matthew every day for it.

      In September 2007, the nationwide campaign for tolerance spearheaded by Judy Shepard finally bore fruit. In the decade since her son’s murder, Judy had spent months of every year lecturing to college students, pressurising politicians, spreading the word to anyone who would listen of the need to ensure gays got the same protection as others victimised by hate crimes.

      Congress eventually passed the Matthew Shepard Act, extending the same protection to homosexuals as that afforded to minority races. For Judy, it was a bittersweet moment. It had taken the callous slaying of Matthew to make people wake up to the hatred in their midst.

      Her tireless efforts to bring about change, which had led her to set up the Erase Hate Foundation in her son’s name, finally forced the US government to accept that greater levels of government funding were required to investigate and prosecute the crime of gay bashing.

      She had spoken to more than a million people in her crusade to right what she saw was a festering wrong. She was to become an unlikely celebrity, fêted by politicians and pop legends such as Elton John, who handed her $75,000 to continue banging on the doors of Capitol Hill. She pledged to burn her son’s memory into the public consciousness.

      ‘We have become a SIC society – silent, indifferent and complacent,’ she told one audience. ‘A hate-crime Bill is not just about protection from violence: it is about the protection of basic civil liberties. For everyone.’