My name is Dexter Gunn, and I was born and raised in Fort Lauderdale, Florida in Broward County. Broward County is the home of the Fort Lauderdale International Boat Show which brings the super-rich to view and purchase luxury super yachts. Broward County is also the home to the largest population of high school football players who went on to play in the NFL. Broward County is also the home to the television show COPS which featured numerous arrest made by the Broward Sheriff’s Office for various crimes that was ignited by the crack cocaine epidemic in south Florida during the 1980s.
As result of the crack cocaine epidemic there was a huge spike in crimes committed by juveniles who had parents addicted to crack. Some children were left to take care of themselves, given to other family members, or just lost in the system. Many of those children were influenced by adults to participate in drug related activities because of the lenient penalties faced by juvenile offenders. These criminal activities would later escalate.
The State of Florida responded by ending parole in 1984, and amending Florida’s Habitual Offender Statute Section 775.084. This amendment was the start of mass incarceration of youthful offenders from ages 18-24 to being classified as career criminals just a couple of years removed from high school.
I was one of those youthful offenders that could not afford a private attorney, and therefore, I too, was assigned to an overburdened Broward County Public Defender with 80 clients on his/her caseload. Like thousands of other juveniles who were tried as adults in the State of Florida, I was shuffled off to prison without ever seeing my discovery, never knowing what a deposition was, never knowing how to navigate through a law library, or explained how a trial was conducted.
Now we’re faced with an opioid epidemic and the same process is repeating itself. I’m asking for help from everyone to assist me in providing copies of legal materials such as opinions, statutes, expert opinion literature etc., to assist the youthful offenders in making decisions that will follow them for a lifetime.
Dexter Gunn, a Ft. Lauderdale resident, passed on June 4 after suffering a stroke about two weeks earlier. A service was held Saturday morning at Hopewell Baptist Church in Pompano Beach. The photo was taken by CeCe Espeut, a writer, lecturer, photographer and social justice advocate. Also find something Dexter Gunn published in December on Go Fund Me. The plea never got a cent.
The Dexter Gunn I Knew
From Steve Schneider
I met Dexter Gunn in April. He was a participant in an Amendment 4 panel discussion in Hollywood, which I attended for Inside Hillcrest, a monthly condo newsletter. In the days after the meeting, I talked with Dexter Gunn over the phone. We also exchanged email and text messages. So my knowledge of Dexter Gunn is informed by those exchanges. It is also bolstered by his honest discussion of the time he spent in the Florida correctional system, and how he wrote his own appeal to earn a significant reduction in his sentence.
The Dexter Gunn I knew had a warm sense of humor. Here is why I am saying that: I told him about a movie with a criminal justice theme, “A Few Good Men.” I recounted the powerful scene where Tom Cruise confronts Jack Nicholson, who thought he owned the world and could do no wrong. “You want the truth?” Nicholson barks at Cruise. “You can’t handle the truth.” Nicholson, a high-ranking military leader slated for a major promotion, then confessed to breaking the law. I liked that scene because I thought Republicans in Tallahassee can’t handle the truth, about 64.5% of voters approving Amendment 4. In theory, the amendment lets returning citizens register to vote after completing the terms of a sentence imposed by a judge, including parole and probation.
But Dexter Gunn, committed to registering returning citizens and reforming the criminal justice system, tossed a different movie my way. He wanted to discuss My Cousin Vinny. It’s a comedy about two New York City boys riding through rural Alabama. They stop at a convenience store to buy snacks. One of the youngsters pockets cans of tuna and forgets to pay for them. Soon after leaving the store, a police officer, armed and barking orders, pulls them over. The “two utes” — youths — thought they were being arrested for shoplifting and confessed.
Turns out, someone shot and killed the convenience store clerk after they left. The city kids were confessing to murder without knowing it.
Enter Joe Pesci, a Brooklyn car mechanic who earned a law degree but hadn’t practiced yet. He flopped and floundered and made a fool of himself in court. Ultimately, though, he got the kids off, one of whom was related to him. At one point Pesci confused the demanding southern judge by speaking up for the “two utes” he represented. The imposing judge didn’t speak New York City English. Dexter Gunn laughed while speaking to me over the phone about the “two utes.” He also told me how the movie was a good primer course in legal strategy, an observation confirmed by a Wikipedia account of the movie.
I’ll also remember Dexter Gunn for something serious he told me. I had asked him about people in prison who are actually innocent. Dexter Gunn, who knew things I’ll never know, said he met at least seven people whom he believed didn’t do it. He offered to introduce me to a case, or cases. I might have taken him up 20 years or so ago. It’s the kind of reporting and writing I like, even if the outcome isn’t clear or may never be published. But I’m 61-years-old now, and looking forward to collecting social security next year. I’ve learned to slow down some, to my chagrin in this case. I will never learn what Dexter Gunn knew and was willing to share with me.
This is the Dexter Gunn I knew.
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