Call it Democracy Derailed Day. August 1 marked the second anniversary of the day that Philadelphia, home of the Liberty Bell, turned free speech on its head at the 2000 National Republican Convention (see "Liberty denied," News, January 18, 2001). It's when 420 protesters were arrested and charged with trumped-up felonies and misdemeanors as the Republicans nominated George W. Bush for president.

Now two years later, criminal charges against hundreds of activists have been dropped or dismissed because of lack of evidence. Except, that is, for Providence-based housing advocate Camilo Viveiros, who still faces felony charges for allegedly throwing a bicycle at Philadelphia police commissioner John Timoney. Viveiros, who denies that he assaulted Timoney, has endured a mixed court battle to date. In October 2001, a Philadelphia municipal-court judge reduced most of the 17 misdemeanor and felony charges filed against him, including a felony assault charge that carries a maximum prison sentence of 50 years -- the same as any homicide. But last January, after Philadelphia district attorney Lynne Abraham appealed, Superior Court re-instated the felony assault charge against Viveiros. Earlier this month, the Pennsylvania Supreme Court declined to hear his case. He is scheduled to go to trial on October 9.

In many ways, Viveiros's life has become an exercise in contradictions. As an organizer for the Massachusetts Alliance for HUD Tenants, in Boston, he spends his days trying to save the poor, elderly, and disabled from eviction. He has devoted much of his adulthood to myriad social-justice causes. But not a minute goes by without the flicker of fear and preoccupation over his own prospects. As Viveiros puts it, "Here I am trying to create a world where truth will prevail. Yet I'm worrying about whether the system will deliver justice in my own case."

His ordeal has had a tangible effect on his advocacy work. Since his August 2000 arrest, it has become harder for Viveiros to convince disenfranchised tenants to speak out. Last June, for instance, he spent weeks trying to urge people to participate in a national affordable-housing protest in Washington, DC. But he found himself facing the same bittersweet response. "Tenants said, `But we don't want to end up like you,' " Viveiros recalls. "People were hesitant because they know about my [criminal] case. It has made them think twice before actually practicing free speech."

As Viveiros awaits his trial, he has tried to find comfort in the Philly district attorney's poor prosecutorial record. But it cuts both ways. On the one hand, he says, "It's fantastic that almost all the criminal cases have been thrown out." On the other hand, it puts pressure on Abraham to win convictions against the high-profile Timoney Three -- i.e., Viveiros and two activists who are co-defendants in the case. All along, Philly officials have portrayed R2K protesters as violent, unruly types. In reality, most of them were like Viveiros, who claims that police knocked him unconscious before charging him with aggravated assault. "The city," he adds, "has to legitimize the police's excessive use of force that day. So my case may become the scapegoat case."

Taking a longer view, Viveiros hopes people will recognize the harm that these prosecutions can cause to the principles of free speech. "If people cannot express themselves through non-violent means," he poses, "then how can we consider ourselves to be living in an authentic democracy?"

For updates on Viveiros's case, check out www.friendsofcamilo.org. Contributions to Viveiros's legal-defense fund can be sent to: Friends of Camilo, PO Box 58247, Philadelphia, PA 19102.

Issue Date: August 9 - 15, 2002