Life after death.

Barry Winchell's mom begs other mothers to not let their gay sons join the military

It's every parent's worst nightmare. Last July, Patricia Kutteles received a telephone call informing her that her 21-year-old son, Pfc. Barry Winchell, had been killed at the Fort Campbell Army base in Kentucky. But for Kutteles, that news was just the beginning of her ordeal. After a delay, the Pentagon finally acknowledged that Winchell had been beaten to death with a baseball bat, in part because the perpetrator believed he was gay.

"When I was told about the motives of the killers," Kutteles said in a telephone interview from her home in Kansas City, Mo., "I was just devastated, but not because they thought Barry was gay. All I could think about was how he had been harassed for months and how his death could have been prevented. I couldn't believe that the Army would just allow the entire name-calling and degradation he was subjected to."

Kutteles may not have known her son's sexual orientation, but fellow servicemen apparently thought they did. On July 5 Pvt. Calvin Glover, enraged that a "faggot" had "kick[ed] [his] ass" during a barracks fight two days earlier, bludgeoned Winchell while he slept on a cot.

Winchell's face was so disfigured that a fellow soldier said it looked as if he had "raccoon eyes." In December Glover, then 18, was sentenced to life in military prison. Spc. Justin Fisher, then 25, was accused of being an accomplice but received a 12 1/2-year sentence on lesser charges in January.

Kutteles has found some solace by transforming her son's death into a crusade against the military's "don't ask, don't tell" policy. In a letter to Secretary of Defense William Cohen, Kutteles complained bitterly about what she termed the "blasphemies to the memory of our son." In March Kutteles and her husband, Wally, who was Barry's stepfather, planned to file a wrongful death suit against the Pentagon. Like most legal challenges to the armed services, the suit faces long odds. But the couple hopes it will draw attention to the physical dangers facing gay and lesbian military personnel.

"Talking about what Barry suffered has helped me get through this past eight months," Kutteles says. "When things got tough Barry would always say to me, `Suck it up and drive on,' and that's what I try to do. It's really important to me that the atmosphere changes in the military so no one else has to experience what my son went through."

Despite her steadfast commitment to her crusade, Kutteles is anything but certain about how her son lived his private life. She is reluctant to concede that Winchell was gay. And she struggles to understand his relationship with Calpernia Sarah Addams, a male-to-female preoperative transsexual whom Winchell was dating before his death. "I'm not saying that Barry wasn't gay, only that I didn't know him to be gay," Kutteles says. "He never told me he was gay."

Kutteles says she has spoken to Addams once: "I like her very much, and I know she cared very much about Barry. I can understand that if he was struggling with his sexuality, why, with her femininity, she might have been very comforting to him."

Kutteles's surprise about her son's sexuality stems in part from lessons she tried to impart to him. As a registered psychiatric nurse, she spent years caring for gay kids. "I especially remember one young gay boy whom I worked with," she says. "He came to live at my residential center. Two weeks later his mother sent his belongings and said she never wanted to see him again. He was such a sensitive, loving kid, and it just broke your heart that a parent would treat a child like that. These were boys who were so despised by their families that they had never been tucked in at night."

Kutteles did not leave her sense of empathy at the office. "I know that he knew I would love him no matter who he was," she says of Winchell. "He knew I wouldn't reject him. That's what makes it so hard to understand." When she did notice that Winchell was different from other kids, she attributed it to his learning disabilities. From an early age he suffered from attention deficit disorder and dyslexia. "There was so much going on that perhaps that part of him just got lost," she says.

Winchell's early years were tumultuous for other reasons as well. Following an abusive relationship, Pat and her three sons were left homeless. For two months the family lived in shelters and their car. Life became stable when Pat met Wally Kutteles, when Barry was 5 years old. A Korean War veteran, Wally apparently inspired Barry's interest in the Army. Now Wally Kutteles is involved in what he sees a battle for justice in the memory of the man he considered his son.

In taking on the military brass, Pat Kutteles has joined a lamentably large group of mothers of murdered gay and lesbian sons and daughters. Matthew Shepard's mother, Judy, is the best-known example. But Kutteles has perhaps the most in common with Dorothy Hajdys-Holman, whose son Allen Schindler was stomped to death by a fellow serviceman in an eerily similar incident in 1992. In that case the Navy ignored threats and taunts aimed at Schindler, who feared for his safety. Schindler was so badly beaten that Hajdys-Holman could recognize him only by the tattooed emblem of the USS Midway on his forearm.

Although they lack the coordination of organizations such as Mothers Against Drunk Driving or Mothers Against Violence in America, these women have become a political force with which to be reckoned. "There's no question we have the potential to become a potent symbol in the fight against violence," Kutteles says. "Who can question the motives of a mom who loves her gay son? Not even the right wing can do that. If you love your child, whether gay or not, you're going to fight for him. I loved my son very, very much. And I want the world to know I loved him very much and I was very proud of him."

Already, she has made an impact on "don't ask, don't tell." In the wake of the killing, Cohen ordered a 90-day investigation of antigay harassment, and antiharassment training has been mandated for each of the armed services' four branches. But there is still a long way to go. On March 9 Servicemembers Legal Defense Network released a study showing that antigay harassment is still on the rise. The gay rights group documented more than 1,000 incidents last year alone.

Kutteles is confident that in the long nm the policy will be scrapped altogether. But in the meantime she has stern advice for other parents. "If I had just known, I would have begged Barry not to join, or to get out of, the Army," she laments. "I just hope all those mothers of gay kids will tell their sons, `Don't join the military.' Your son might not come home."

RELATED ARTICLE: Don't hold your breath

Repeal of the "don't ask" policy will require both political luck and patience

Despite the discouraging news of increased harassment of gay and lesbian military personnel, the Service members Legal Defense Network did mention some progress in its annual report: Witch-hunts have begun to wane, and criminal prosecutions of gay and bisexual personnel have decreased as commanders simply opt to discharge them instead.

That's considered progress, though slight, compared to where the military was six years ago, just after the "don't ask, don't tell" policy was enacted, And much of the credit belongs to the work of SLDN, which was formed to ensure that the policy would be implemented fairly and eventually replaced with a more inclusionary one.

Co-executive director Michelle Benecke says that when she and C. Dixon Osburn started the organization, they thought it would be at least 20 years before the ban on gays would be completely lifted--based on the military's record on integrating women and racial minorities. But "recent political developments give me the hope that the time line could be further compressed," Benecke says.

Thanks in part to the news coverage of U.S. Army Pfc. Barry Winchell's murder in July 1999 and the United Kingdom's recent decision to lift its gay military ban, the "don't ask" policy had been one of the most-talked-about issues in the presidential primary race. Of the two candidates left standing, Vice President Al Gore has said he would move to allow gays to serve openly, while Republican front-runner George W. Bush has said he would keep the "don't ask" policy in place but would better implement it.

Consequently the November elections will have a major impact on the policy's future. But Benecke warns that even if Gore is elected president, the chances of overturning the ban in the immediate future, while improved, are still somewhat remote. A new military policy would have to move through Congress, and right now influential Republicans and some Democrats would fight such action.

"The rock-bottom fact is the votes are not there," Benecke says. "People need to elect more moderate representatives and senators from both parties to Congress."

And even if a repeal got through Congress, senior military officials al the Pentagon--whose strenuous objections to Clinton's first push to lift the ban resulted in the "don't ask" compromise--will likely stand firm behind the status quo. "There will be vociferous opposition from military leaders unless a courageous one steps up to the plate--one who is willing to be ostracized by the pack over at the Pentagon," Benecke says. "The less that sexual orientation matters to soldiers in the field, the more the senior military officials dig their heels in to make it matter."

But as Benecke points out again, "We've always recognized this as a long-term struggle. The debate in 1993 cracked the door open ... and we've [got to] fight like hell to get through the door rather than ... throw up our hands and let if slam in our face."

--Bill Ghent

RELATED ARTICLE: Offensive maneuvers

A report from behind the scenes at Fort Campbell and elsewhere, where the military continues to harass gay and lesbian personnel

BY SARAH WILDMAN

When U.S. Army Spc. Michael McCoy learned of Pfc. Barry Winchell's death, he was in shock. "My buddy," he says, anger creeping into his voice, "was bludgeoned to death by a baseball bat. Then antigay graffiti started appearing around the base." In the weeks and months following the July 1999 murder, the graffiti--including a drawing of a baseball bat with the words FAG WHACKER written inside and the slogan "All fagets [sic] in the Army will be killed"--increased. "I became concerned for my own personal safely," McCoy admits. "I didn't want to be the next `fallen soldier,' murdered because I'm gay."

McCoy, all of 22 years old, had already given almost three years to the Army by the summer of 1999. "I would have stayed in to do a career term," he says now, "if the Army was more accepting of gays and lesbians." But the combination of remaining closeted and fearing for his life led McCoy to disclose his sexual orientation to his superiors. His commander asked him if he wanted to remain in the Army, but McCoy didn't believe he would be safe on base. He opted for an honorable discharge.

Six years after President Clinton implemented "don't ask, don't tell," and even after the more recent "don't harass," the Army remains an uncomfortable--indeed, dangerous--place to be gay, lesbian, or bisexual. The Servicemembers Legal Defense Network, a group committed to the rights of gay and lesbian military personnel, believes that the murder of Winchell and the vicious homophobia at Fort Campbell, Ky., are representative of a deeply ingrained homophobia that reaches throughout the branches of the military. In its sixth annual report on "don't ask, don't tell," released March 9, SLDN paints a careful, vivid picture of an environment in which homophobic slurs are as common as commands and even the highest level of authorily doesn't have a clear picture of the military's policy regarding gays.

Indeed, on March 24 the Pentagon itself was forced to admit how much a part of the military culture homophobia is. A survey ordered by Defense secretary William Cohen in the wake of Winchell's murder concluded, in the words of Pentagon spokesman Kenneth Bacon, that "offensive comments about homosexuals were commonplace, and the majority [of personnel] believed these offensive comments were tolerated to some extent." Forty percent of soldiers reported seeing harassment of service members believed to be gay.

Certainly, the evidence was easy to find al Fort Campbell all along, Pvt. Javier Torres, stationed al Fort Campbell with McCoy and Winchell, came out to his command after months of enduring supervisors' harassment, Staff Sgt. Ricardo Matelstreet, Torres said in a sworn affidavit following his departure from the service, sang "antigay cadences during the platoon's physical training runs" that included the phrase "Faggot, faggot down the street / Shoot him, shoot him till he retreats."

That scenario is part of how "the military is socializing people to hale gays," says Michelle Benecke, co-executive director of SLDN and a former Army captain. "When [new] soldiers walk into their barracks and see `kill faggots' in rest rooms around base, antigay comments carved into the furniture, and they see their unit leaders walk by that every day and hear their unit leaders make derogatory comments about gay people, that sends a message that the way to fit in is to join in the harassment."

The harassment at Fort Campbell may be harsh, but it is hardly unique, From February 1999 until February 2000, according to the SLDN report, there were 968 reported incidents of antigay harassment, up 142% from last year, and 665 incidents in which armed forces personnel were "asked and pursued" concerning their sexual orientation, an increase of 30%. Women, only 14% of the military population, represent 31% of discharges, as the label lesbian is used as a weapon against female service members, gay and straight. And these are just the reported percentages. "Service members can't report antigay harassment without risking being outed and losing their livelihood" whether gay or not, Benecke says.

At a time when the Pentagon is spending record sums and has lowered the minimum IQ for enlistment in an effort to increase the ranks, discharges for sexual orientation are up 73% in the past six years. "The discharge figures are just the lip of the iceberg," says Benecke, who left the service because of ifs discriminatory policy toward gays and lesbians. "Many more people leave at the end of their term of enlistment or resign because of `don't ask, don't tell.'"

The Defense Language Institute in Monterey, Calif., trains top military members to be linguists, an essential component of the military's international peacekeeping missions. In 199914 service members stationed at the institute were subjected to violations of the "don't ask, don't tell" policy when they were harassed by their superiors, their fellow soldiers, and their civilian language instructors.

Airman 1st Class Deanna Grossi, for example, was first targeted by her superiors, who directly asked her about her sexual orientation, drawing her into a larger investigation based primarily on rumor, Grossi found herself hamstrung: When antigay epithets were used to attack a fellow airman, she spoke out, From that day forward she was the subject of homophobic comments and actions. According to SLDN, Grossi reported that her classmate, Airman 1st Class Reyes, would sit in class "hold[ing] his fingers to his nose as if he were smelling them until she would notice. Then Reyes would say, `Let me smell your hand so I can see if you did the same thing I did last night.'"

Though these comments were made in front of the language teacher, no action was taken against Reyes. Another airman, Erin Hollenshead, was driven from the Air Force after months of harassment, including being called a "pussy sucker" by fellow classmates. In her report Hollenshead said, "I cannot serve my country in good conscience knowing that my classmates don't want me here and could possibly physically harm me if they suspected or learned that I am in fact gay."

Gay military personnel have no recourse; SLDN reports show that those who have tried to deal with harassment through military chaplains and health care providers--including psychologisls --have been turned in.

"Last year," Benecke says, "we found a Navy Web site that specifically told health care providers to turn in gay people who came to them for help." The site, which SLDN brought the attention of the Pentagon, called gays "illegal and dangerous." It took months for the site to be dismantled, and in that time, Benecke says, a number of gay service members were discharged from the Army. "SLDN has repeatedly asked the Pentagon to clarify its own policy," Benecke says with a sigh. So far, those changes have yet to come.

Wildman is a Washington, D.C.-based writer who has contributed to The Washington Post and The New Republic.